


Dark Paradise

by Liz2010



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Depression, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, No Malia Tate, Panic Attacks, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, RIP Allison Argent, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:45:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 82,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz2010/pseuds/Liz2010
Summary: He couldn’t feel his hands, couldn’t control them, even as he watched them cut through the air, the silver blade clenched in one fist flashing in the darkness. He was numb and his senses dull. All he could see was his body encased in darkness all around him.Stiles is recovering from the Nogitsune as well as can be expected, that is to say, not very well. He's lost his pack, he's lost his friends and every time he blacks out, he sees the people he has lost along the way.  Can he find a way to stop seeing the ghosts? Does he even want to?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the Teen Wolf charterers in any way, shape, or form.  
> This work is my first fanfiction ever and is completely unbeta read and all mistakes are my own.

Dark Paradise

Chapter 1

He couldn’t feel his hands, couldn’t control them, even as he watched them cut through the air, the silver blade clenched in one fist flashing in the darkness. He was numb and his senses dull. All he could see was his body encased in darkness all around him. 

He didn’t remember what it was like to be warm. He didn’t remember what it was like to feel anything at all. There was only the cold and the darkness. It was all he knew. This was all there would ever be and if he could still feel anything the despair of the realization would have gagged him. 

Then, all at once, everything came back in a thundering roar. It was so loud and bright, too loud too much, after having been isolated for so long. There was moonlight all around but it felt like the noon sun and he couldn’t see for its brightness. Although the night wasn’t warm, it wasn’t frigid like it had been before. The frozen band that had been wrapped around his chest began to unclench and he could breathe again. 

And there was a wonderful warmth on his hands, spreading down his chest and arms. He could feel them again. It was overwhelming and thrilling and he was so happy to be able to feel his body again. He still didn’t know where he was or what had happened, but it was alright. He was himself again and he laughed out loud but he could barely hear it over the commotion around him.

It was too loud and it tampered down his happiness. It made it hard to focus and his thoughts fluttered here and there, never landing on an idea of what to do next. There is a battle, he thought, going on all around. He could hear the growls and snarls of the werewolves and the distinctive clang of swords. 

This wasn’t right. Everything had been fine, everything was good before he got stuck wherever he had been. Something was wrong and dread settled in his stomach. 

There were shouts all around him, growing more and more frantic as the voices wailed. He couldn’t pick out words. He couldn’t even recognize voices. But every one of them was in pain. He could feel it. 

A horrible cry came out of the din, drowning out all the other voices. Someone was screaming, an endless wail that broke his heart and hurt his head. He strained, trying desperately to see through the unnaturally bright moonlight. 

Finally, the light relented and he could see and he what he saw made him want to tear out his eyes. Allison lay crumpled on the ground, so damn pale with her eyes open and staring at nothing. Her blood was everywhere. It soaked her shirt and coated the ground around her. He fell to his knees beside her, reaching out to help her, to stop the bleeding, because it wasn’t too late, it couldn’t be too late, please, please, please. 

As he reached out, he saw it. The warmth that he had been so thankful for only moments ago was blood. It was her blood. It covered his hands and splattered his shirt. Even now, the blade was still in his hand. He did this. It was his fault. 

He wanted to howl in the pain and horror of it but couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. It was his fault. His fault. His fault. His. Fault.

It kept playing over and over in his head. She was his friend, and he killed her. He wanted to collapse on the ground beside her, to die beside her but he couldn’t. He needed to move right now. He needed help- Allison needed help. His father, Chris, Derek someone would know what to do, how to fix her.

He struggled to his feet to find Scott right in front of him, wolfed out. He thanked God, or whatever deity that was watching over them. Scott could fix this. He was the alpha, he could help her. He could save her.

Scott face was blank, unreadable, a disgusting parody of his normally expressive face. The rest of the pack stood behind him, their expressions ranging from furious to resigned. 

“This is your fault.” Scott said dully, glancing calmly back at the body behind them.

He tried to explain, tried to say he knew but he didn’t understand how. He didn’t know what had happened. He tried to ask for help from his best friend, but nothing would come out.  


Scott leaned in close, grabbing both his arms with his hands, trapping him or comforting, he wasn’t sure, he couldn’t tell. Scott leaned in close to his ear and whispered.

“You deserve this.”

He wanted to ask what it was he deserved but knew it wouldn’t work. His tongue was frozen in his mouth. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t, speak. 

Scott’s eyes flared a brighter red and he knew what was about to happen. He leaned his head back baring his throat to make it easier. The alpha’s claws flashed and he felt his skin shred and saw his own blood splatter across his best friends face and finally, finally, he screamed.  
\--------  
Stiles woke up screaming.

That wasn’t a surprise. He usually did these days. What was a surprise was how long he had been screaming, judging by how badly his throat hurt. Usually his dad burst in long before now, waking him and trying to comfort him. It didn’t work, not really, but his father’s hands gripping him, shaking him awake, helped him remember what was real. Without him, Stiles felt lost, drowning in a sea of fear.

As he lay there gasping and waiting for his heart to stop pounding, he remembered why he was alone in the dark of his room. His dad was working doubles this week and wouldn’t be home tonight. The police were shorthanded right now, with everything that had happened, and they needed every employee available. 

It was one of the things that they didn’t talk about. Just like they didn’t talk about how Stiles woke up every single damn night screaming. Or how he couldn’t eat without everything tasting like iron and blood. Or how his best friend wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

Stiles rolled over with a groan and grabbed his cell. No new messages, that was normal these days too. The pack, what was left of them, tended not to bother him. Unless it was life or death, and sometimes even then, Stiles was left in the dark.

Scott said it was to protect him. He said he didn’t want to add any more stress to Stiles life. That he wanted Stiles to get better and he couldn’t do that surrounded by danger. It would have felt more sincere if Scott had been able to look at him even once while giving his little speech, before walking away to sit with Kira, Lydia, and Isaac. 

It had hurt but it didn’t really matter. Stiles had already made up his mind the day after he woke up on the school floor, unpossessed but utterly exhausted and numb. He wouldn’t push his way into anything that wasn’t strictly his own business ever again. He had learned his lesson. That was how people got hurt. 

He groaned again, rubbing his hands over his face. It was almost five am. He had slept longer than usual, even considering that midnight was early for him to drift off these days. It was still too early to get up though. But it was too late for his to take his Ambien even if he wanted to take one, unless he wanted to be a complete zombie at school. 

He didn’t like the medicine anyway. It made it so much hard to tell what was real. But, it had been a compromise his father and he had made when it became clear that sleep wasn’t going to be an easy thing to get anymore. On the weekends, he took them and drifted through the day with his father close by to keep him anchored. On the weekdays, he had nightmare after nightmare, but didn’t take the pills. That way, he could tell what was a dream and what wasn’t, even without his father there. Because his dad was never home on the weekdays. Not anymore.

Stiles got up and stumbled downstairs. He made coffee without thinking and flipped on his laptop. His school work had gotten much better since he stopped helping the pack. In fact, he was even taking some online college classes. It gave him something to do in the middle of the night when there was no chance of going back to sleep. 

He managed to finish his final paper for his college Intro to Lit class and did the last two pop quizzes for Algebra I online before he checked the clock and had to rush out the door to get to school. Spring semester for high school and college was over this Friday, and then he had no idea what he would do to stay busy. Maybe take college summer classes online. Maybe stay in his room and stare at the wall until his eyes blurred over and he felt like he was suffocating. 

Stiles felt mildly guilty for not eating breakfast before leaving, especially when he realized he forgot to pack a lunch. He did that now- forgot things that should have been important. Last month, he drove all the way to school without his shoes on. He had had to go back home and get them, once his homeroom teacher noticed.  


It worried his dad, the lack of appetite and the lack of focus, but John probably wouldn’t notice today. It had been a long week at the sheriff’s department. Every week was a long week now, with all of the unfortunate job openings. John would probably just go straight to bed as soon as he got home. Or have a nightcap alone in the kitchen. 

Stiles decided he would cook supper for him and his father tonight. Something vegetarian. That was easier for him to stomach right now and it would be good for his dad’s heart. Maybe eggplant parmesan. It was easy to make and tasty enough. 

Stiles went to his locker with his head down, long past the days when he would search the halls and try to spot his friends as they tried to avoid his glances. Stiles was so wrapped up in planning supper and his now necessary trip to the grocery store that he didn’t even notice Danny talking to him. 

“Sorry what?” Stiles asked, winching at how wrecked his voice sounded. His nightly screaming combined with a lack of people to talk to lead to him sounding like he smoked a pack a day, on the rare occasion that he did speak. 

“Just wondering if you were trying out for lacrosse today? You know, for next year. Since we’ll be seniors, I figured we are practically guaranteed spots but it’s always fun to watch the freshmen struggle.” Danny said. 

“I forgot about it.” Stiles replied, and for once it was the truth. Usually try outs were at the beginning of fall semester, but Coach wanted to do them early this year. Something about needing to know how much new talent to recruit. 

“Come on Stiles,” Danny said, shoving his shoulder gently. “I know you’ve gone through a lot of stuff this year, but you really were getting better at lacrosse. I think you should.” 

Danny walked away without waiting for an answer. He had been surprisingly kind lately. Ever since that pack had found out he knew about werewolves, they tried to include him, but he didn’t really seem to want to be pack. But, unexpectedly, the more Stiles drew into himself, the more Danny reached out to him.

They weren’t friends, not like Scott and Stiles had once been. They didn’t hang out outside of school or even talk much. But, Danny lent him his notes when Stiles zoned out class after class and forgot to take them. He always said hi in the hallways and even sat beside him in class, sometimes, when no one else did. 

When Stiles asked him why, Danny just shrugged and just said Jackson. Then Stiles got it. Danny had lost his best friend and knew how lonely it was, and was trying to keep Stiles from feeling the same. But, Stiles didn’t deserve friends, not after everything he had done. So, he tried not to encourage Danny too much. 

The day passed like every other day. Stiles dug his fingernails into his arm to make him focus on his finals during classes but he let himself drift in the hallways, mindlessly walking from class to class. He ate lunch in the library and managed to finish up the last on his college classes online during it. Occasionally he would see the pack in the halls or class, but he never talked to them. But it wasn’t all bad, with them, not really. 

Isaac had stayed in town, instead of going to France with Chris like he had planned. Ethan had stayed too, much to everyone’s surprise, and seemed to be fitting in nicely. Lydia could look at Stiles now, which was an improvement. Kira was still so nice. She probably would still talk to him, if he started the conversation, but he didn’t have the energy to try.  


Really, it was just Scott. Stiles missed him like missing an arm, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk to him. If Scott snubbed him and looked at him with the blank stare he wore every night in his dreams, or worse, told Stiles what he knew he deserved to hear, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the morning. 

So, Stiles ignored Scott and Scott ignored him right back. This was the last week of school. Stiles could get through it.  
\-------  
Stiles ended up going to tryouts, surprising himself as much as anyone. Scott and Isaac had flat out stared at him in the locker room, faces so shocked that Stiles would have laughed if he did that anymore. Danny grinned at him and clapped him on the shoulder and Stiles rewarded him with a small smile.

Stiles didn’t do half bad, considering. He was still too skinny and gangly, but during the last year had managed to outgrow at least part of his clumsiness. He was getting tall too, which gave him an advantage. He was better than at least half the players out there, giving him hope he might actually make it onto the field next year. 

The main problem was that he was out of shape and had zero endurance. He hadn’t been running with the wolves in weeks and he hadn’t eaten since the day before yesterday. He didn’t usually go that long. But, without his dad home to remind him, eating just wasn’t a high priority. By the time they were halfway through tryout, Stiles was exhausted and shaking. 

Still, everything might have been fine, if he hadn’t had to face off against Isaac. It was a simple drill. One player had the ball, and was trying to make a goal. The other player had to stop him. It was one on one lacrosse, essentially, and something Stiles had done a hundred times. 

Coach paired them off and Isaac had the ball. Stiles knew he had no change of really stopping him, but he has determined to at least try. He didn’t want to be the weak one yet again.

He didn’t want to look at Isaac’s face and see the anger there, or even worse, pity, so he focused on his chest and how each breath was far to calm. Stiles own breathing was starting to get strained at his hands were struggling to hold on to his stick. Spots were starting to form in his eyes.

Stiles opened his mouth to ask Coach for a water break, when Coach blew the whistle. Isaac faked left then when right. Stiles had been too tired to fall for the fake out and followed him to the right. The two boys hit. Stiles knew he had no hope when it came to beating Isaac with strength, so he played dirty.

He hooked his foot behind Isaac’s knee and pulled it forward, shoving the were to the side as he did, hoping to make him stumble and drop the ball. The move worked and Isaac tripped, and his werewolf reflexes were the only thing that kept him from completely eating dirt. 

Unfortunately, as Isaac started to go down, he jerked his stick up, hitting Stiles directly across the side the head, snapping his head back hard. 

Stiles was wearing a helmet. They all were- it was a rule. Isaac didn’t even hit him that hard, especially for a werewolf. But the blow combined with the spots he was already seeing and the world completely blacked out. He didn’t even feel himself fall or hear the frantic shout of Scott as he hit the ground hard.  
\-----  
Stiles opened his eyes, expecting to feel pain and see the worried face of Coach hovering over him. He didn’t.

His head didn’t hurt, none of his body did, but it wasn’t like the numbness from his dreams, from his memories of being possessed. It was comforting, like warmth had spread all over him, encompassing him until he didn’t mind that his body felt like it was floating away from his mind. 

He lay on the ground for a while, he didn’t know how long, enjoying the feeling. It reminded him vaguely of the morphine he had gotten after a he had managed to give himself a compound break in his leg when he was ten. Only better, much better. 

His mind wasn’t racing either, for the first time since he could remember. His thoughts were calm. It was wonderful. He felt completely at peace and he relished the silence all around him. 

It was only then that he realized he has alone. None of his teammates were crowded around him, making him claustrophobic. Coach wasn’t asking stupid and inaccurate brain injury questions. With a jolt, he realized that he wasn’t on the field. He wasn’t even at school.

That was enough of a shock to force him up to his feet in one fluid motion. Stiles staggered for a moment, with the shock of how easy it had been to get up. His body ached all the time now no matter how much sleep he did or didn’t get, ever since a demon had vomited his body onto the floor. His muscles always felt torn and his bones hurt. He had been taking so much Tylenol just to function day to day that his dad had actually put it in the gun safe, worried he would take too much.

It was a stupid attempt to help stop the inevitable. Like Stiles couldn’t just go buy more. Or something stronger. Which he did, right after it was all over, from a kid a school. But he didn’t take it. He didn’t take the pills.

But right now, standing didn’t hurt and neither did walking. He took in his surroundings, as he turned in a slow circle. 

Stiles was defiantly in a woods. Maybe even in the preserve. It was difficult to say, he hadn’t explored half as much of it was he wanted to. Even before the demon, before the chaos, Stiles had promised a sad eyed Derek Hale that he would stop snooping around the forest. Stiles suspected that it made Derek nervous to have him anywhere near his burned out house. Probably scared he would damage the memories or the scents of his family somehow. 

It was beautiful, wherever he was. The trees were mature and full of green leaves, casting large shadows that kept most of the underbrush from growing. A blue clear sky peaked through the tops and a breeze blew lightly, filling the air with the clean smell of the pure wild. 

A part of Stiles knew he should be concerned, if not outright panicked. Either he had teleported, or he was hallucinating again. Neither option seemed great. 

A bigger part of Stiles didn’t care. There wasn’t any point of fighting it anymore. What would happen to him would happen regardless of what he did. That was how it always turned out. Fighting fate was like draining the ocean with a bucket, exhausting and utterly pointless. It was nice here. He was alright with being here.

Stiles wandered aimlessly through the dead leaves of the forest floor. No matter how far into the woods he got, he never seemed to get any closer to walking out of it. There were no lights from houses or sounds from cars.

It was easy to just drift aimlessly through these never ending woods. Every moment was perfection captured in a twinkling of time. 

A rustling noise broke him out of his mindlessness. Stiles paused, thinking he might have been hearing his own footsteps, but the noise came again.

Whatever it was, it was slightly ahead of him, just out of view. Stiles walked towards it calmly. There was no point on being scared. He didn’t have a weapon or way of defending himself. He didn’t have anywhere to run to and most certainly, no one was coming to save him.

Stiles walked into a small clearing between trees. There was a figure there. It didn’t have fur, or scales, or a sword. That was a good start. Better than most of his supernatural encounters. He walked closer, trying to be as quiet as he could on the dry leaves beneath his feet. 

The figure was wearing a dress, a blue dress, with long brown hair. A woman. She was tall and thin and was slowly turning in a circle, as though she was just a confused as Stiles was about what was happening and she didn’t seem to notice him creeping closer. 

Stiles was within arm’s length when he finally stopped. The lady had stopped turning as well and was facing away from his, with her head tilted slightly to the side, as though thinking. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Stiles asked, his voice sounding far too loud in the quiet of the woods. 

She jumped, startled, and then turned to face him. 

Stiles heart flew to this throat and he took a quick step back. He knew that face. He knew the bright brown eyes and the pale skin and the slightly upturned nose and the mouth that seemed to always be smiling. 

It was Claudia Stilinski. It was his mother, looking healthy and happier than she had been since Stiles was eight, since before she was diagnosed and the sickness started eating away her brain and her personality. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, even as the blood drained from his face.

“Mom?” he asked, reaching out to hold her, to touch her, to be nearer to her than he had been in nearly ten years. 

Claudia didn’t look happy at all now. The soft confused smile had dropped from her face and she looked horrified as she frantically backed away from her son.

Stiles remembered this, the fear and the repulsion of him, from the end of the progression of the disease. It didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Mom it’s me. Its Stiles.” he tried to reassure her but she still looked petrified, wide eyes full of fear and mouth open.

“I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.” he continued on in a careful tone, trying to not frighten his mother any worse.

“You can’t be here.” She finally spoke and her voice was just like he remembered. A mix of emotions welled up for Stiles but she continued on. “You have to go. Promise me, you have to go. Now, right now!” 

Claudia turned and ran into the trees, disappearing from view impossibly quickly. 

Stiles tried to follow her. He ran as fast as he could into the foliage, but it was like the woods itself was fighting to keep them apart. Branch after branch snagged at him and roots tripped him at every step. 

“STILES” a voice screamed from behind him and he whipped around just as yet another branch came out of the woods. It bashed him upside the head and he closed his eyes against the pain because everything hurt again. 

Stiles groaned. He head hurt so bad, like, well like he had been hit with a stick. He tried weakly to roll over and clutch his head, a reflex from the pain, but he was stopped by strong hands on his arms. 

“Lahey! Hang up the fucking phone! He’s fine. He’s waking up; he doesn’t need a damn ambulance.”

That was Coach, Stiles was sure. He was less sure of how Coach would have gotten into the woods with him. 

“Stiles, man, you have got to say something, you’re really scaring me. Come on, wake up, please wake up.” 

Stiles knew that voice too and it was enough to make him open his eyes. As expected, Scott McCall was looking worriedly down at him.

Stiles let his eyes roll back and flutter closed again. He knew where he was now, lying flat on his back on the lacrosse field after having been beamed by Isaac with the blunt end of a lacrosse stick. What he saw, his mother, it all must have been a dream. 

God, the thought made him so incredibly tired and he tried to let himself sink back into the darkness. 

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice jumped an octave when Stiles let his eyes close again. 

“Scott, I swear I didn’t hit him that hard. He was falling before I even made contact. He should have woken up by now. Something else must be wrong.” Isaac said, sounding close and only marginally calmer that Scott had. 

“Coach, we need to call 911. Something’s wrong. We need to tell his dad at the very least.” Scott was pleading to Coach but he managed to still hit Stiles weak spot.

“No.” Stiles said, or at least tried to. It came out as more as a moan, but it had the desired effect. 

“Stiles, open your eyes.” That was Scott’s alpha voice. Stiles had heard it a hundred times before, but it didn’t work on him. He wasn’t pack. Not really. Not anymore.

“I’m fine.” Stiles replied instead eyes still closed, trying his best not to slur. “Don’t call my dad. Seriously Scott, don’t. Please.” 

Stiles didn’t even care that he was begging. His dad couldn’t hear about this. He was so stressed with work and worried about Stiles all the time. He was always tired and drinking again and just no. Stiles was not going to add fainting at lacrosse to his father’s problems.

He tried rolling over again and this time the arms let him. He finally opened his eyes as he pushed himself sluggishly to his feet. He hurt so damn badly, but schooled his face not to let it show. He knew his heart had to be beating fiercely and that the wolves would know, but he refused to let any other weakness show. 

“I’m fine.” Stiles said again, glancing at the two wolves and Coach standing nearby. Isaac looked annoyed, shaking his head and Scott looked god-damned heartbroken that Stiles was nauseous for reasons other than his head injury. 

“Coach, that’s it for me I think. I’ll see you next year.” Stiles turned and walked slowly off the field trying not to show just how badly the word was spinning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, there's Derek. Yay!

Driving home after losing consciousness probably wasn’t Stiles smartest idea. But he made it without getting pulled over, or crashing into anything, so that was good. 

He was already changed into his sweats and was preparing to lay face down on his bed for an indefinite amount of time until his head stopped throbbing, when he remember his promise to himself to cook supper for his dad. 

With a groan, he stumbled back downstairs to the jeep without bothering to stop and change, only to have to go back inside, because he forgot to grab the grocery money his father kept in the empty cookie jar by the fridge. Then, there was a fender bender on Main St, so he had to backtrack all the way down 2nd St, where the traffic always sucked. 

By the time Stiles actually made it to the store, he was running on fumes. Functioning took a lot out of him on a good day, and today wasn’t a good day. He was seriously debating just ordering his dad a pizza at the station and going home and going to bed. 

But, he didn’t. He picked up the stupid eggplant, pasta, and a jar of sauce because he did not have it in him to make it from scratch today. He even got a package of premade cookies, because his dad deserved nice things. 

There was something else he needed, but Stiles couldn’t remember what it was. His brain couldn’t focus enough to figure it out. He should have written it down. 

Stiles wandered the store, hoping he would remember whatever it was that he needed. He ended up in the cereal aisle staring vaguely at the boxes, wondering if any of the brightly colored cereals had any actual nutritional value. 

“Stiles.” For the umpteenth time today, an impatient voice broke him out of his thoughts.

He turned around, still feeling distance and slow, only to find Derek Hale standing way to close to him, looking distinctly annoyed. 

Derek looked, well, better than he had last time Stiles had seen him. Of course, he had been half tore apart by swords and covered in his and Aiden’s blood, so almost anything would have been an improvement. Since then he had been gone, off getting distance or closure or whatever. But he looked well rested and more at ease now, less like the whole world was on his shoulders. 

Or maybe Stiles was projecting. It was hard to tell.

Derek was talking again. Or at least his mouth was moving. It was a cute mouth. It looked soft. Stiles had always thought so, when he used to think about things like that. Lots of other people did too, judging by what they said when they though the Derek couldn’t hear them. Of course, he could hear them, but they didn’t know that. 

“Sorry, what?” Stiles managed to spit out, when it became clear that Derek was waiting for some sort of answer, dragging his eyes away from Derek’s mouth and to his eyes.

Derek’s eyebrows scrunched up and he looked even more aggravated than ever.

Stiles didn’t like expression. It reminded him of things that he didn’t want to think about. He tried to grin and play it off. 

“Sorry, skipped my Adderall today. What did you say?” That might have even been true. So his heart didn’t skip, probably.

“I said,” Derek said slowly, looking at Stiles judgmentally “Are you okay? You were in this aisle when I walked in the store and you still haven’t moved.”

“Yeah I’m good. Just, you know, deciding” he gestured at the power bars in front of him before grabbing one at random.

Derek managed not to roll his eyes, but Stiles could tell it was a challenge for him. 

“So, you’re back.” Stiles asked, without asking. 

This time he did get an eye roll. “Yes, Stiles, I’m back. Clearly. Since I’m in a store shopping right next to you.”

“Awesome.” Stiles nodded and looked at his shoes. He remembered to wear them this time. Cool. “I just didn’t think you would want to be.”

Derek looked puzzled. “Beacon Hills is my home. My alpha and pack are here. I just needed some space to figure some things out. I figured them out. So I’m back.”

Stiles flinched at the reminder that Derek was pack. It hadn’t always seemed like it, but Derek had always been there for them, even after he wasn’t the alpha anymore. He was as much, if not more, pack than any of the others. 

Stiles nodded quickly to cover the flinch, more to show he heard Derek than to agree. He didn’t bother to ask what it was Derek went away to figure out.

The conversation seemed to be over. Derek never had been much of a talker, and Stiles didn’t have the energy to make small talk over the oatmeal. He brushed past Derek to leave the aisle, and then felt the older man stiffen.

“You smell weird.” Derek said, sounding confused and a little disgusted. 

“Well maybe I need a shower” Stiles snarked over his shoulder, and for just a moment, he felt like himself again. “And that is a really weird thing to say to somebody, just so you know.”  
\------  
Dinner turned out well. It was hard to ruin pasta, though Stiles had done it in the past. Right after his mother had died, he tried to make chicken alfredo. He had accidently caught the stove on fire. 

He had turned into a much better cook now, though. He only ruined things when he tried to spice them up or make the recipe better. He hadn’t been doing that much lately.

His dad hadn’t made it home, not that Stiles expected him too. Stiles ate half a plate of pasta in front of the TV before finally giving up on his dad sometimes after midnight, shooting his father a text that he had a plate in the fridge and he expected him to eat it.

He lay in bed and though about how nice it would be if his dad was home, so that he could get some Tylenol. His head still hurt. He toyed with the idea of taking one of his illegally acquired pills, but he wanted to save those, just in case. 

It had been nice to see Derek. He looked great, and not just physically, though he looked phenomenal as always. He seemed happier, underneath that broody exterior. He had been shopping, after all, not just creeping around the woods hunting or stalking or whatever.

Plus, Derek had looked at him, really looked at him right in the eyes, and didn’t flinch at all. That was a nice change from the rest of the pack. 

The later it got, the more his thoughts spiraled. He thought about how much he really still needed his father. To see him. To give him a hug. To talk to him and pretend he didn’t see the way his dad was studying him, try to catalog how much weight he had lost, and how glazed over his eyes looked today compared to yesterday. 

Stiles managed to fall into a restless sleep, kept company by the settling on the old empty house. He slept and waited for the nightmares to start to creep in.  
\-----  
Stiles managed to ace every one of his finals, ending his year at a 4.0. At this rate, Lydia might have competition for valedictorian. Of course, that would probably just piss her off at him even more. 

Nothing bad ever came of Stiles collapse at tryouts. His dad never found out. Coach posted the team roster the last day of school. Stiles was pleasantly surprised to find he made the team. Coach probably just felt bad for him, but hey, he would take it. He gave Danny a friendly punch and congratulated him on getting to keep himself as a team mate. 

Danny just laughed, looking pleased as well and walked off. Ethan, Isaac and Scott all made the team, naturally. Scott even made captain. Not that that was much of a surprise. He was a natural leader and supernaturally athletically inclined. 

Stiles thought about congratulating Scott. Being captain of a winning team your senior year- that was big deal. It was worth being excited about. 

But, Stiles never managed to stop him in the halls. Every time he got close, Scott somehow managed to end up being called away. Stiles wasn’t feeling brave enough to approach him in the cafeteria, with the whole pack watching. So, he let the thought go and let himself drift through the last few hours of school.  
\-----  
Stiles wasn’t upset that school was over. It had been a hell of a year and he was glad to see it over with. His dad, however, was less pleased. 

“Stiles, you can’t just take 16 hours of online college classes.” John said, holder his head in his hands at the dinner table. He made it home early tonight, to celebrate Stiles’ good grades, and had made the mistake of asking what his summer plans were.

Stiles had made tried to make vegetarian stir fry. It wasn’t very good, but his dad was eating it without complaint.

The food was missing something. Stiles couldn’t figure out what it was. He toyed with the vegetables on his plate as he thought.

“I can’t figure out what this is missing. It tastes flat.” Stiles replied, not looking up.

“Meat. It’s missing meat. And it’s not healthy for you to be studying this much. I’m very proud of your grades and how hard you have worked to get that GPA up. But you need to get out and spend time with people Stiles.” his dad said, not falling for Stiles halfhearted deflection. 

“Like a job?” Stiles looked up and met his father’s eyes, studying the lines he found there. 

“Yes.” John looked happy at this turn of events. “Or even just spend some time with your friends. I know you miss them.”

A job. Stiles mulled it over. It would be nice to get out a little more, even make some money. He never really hurt for cash. He had been selling papers online for years, and made a decent profit doing it. But, he hadn’t felt up to it lately. He had been too busy writing his own papers and not sleeping.

The idea of working fast food or even at one of those factory temp jobs made him nauseous. Being cooped up, surrounded by people and noise and heat and the pressure, it would be too much. It would suffocate him. 

“I don’t think I can work a job right now Dad.” Stiles said quietly.

“You don’t have to.” John said quickly. “I know you haven’t been in the best headspace lately, but, other than the nightmares, you really have been doing better. I don’t want to see that all go away because you’re pushing yourself too hard. I just want you to be alright.” John laid a strong hard on his arm and squeezed comfortingly. 

Stiles smiled softly, feeling warmth spread though his chest. He was lucky to have the Sheriff as his dad. Lot of other fathers, lots of other people, wouldn’t be able to handle everything Stiles had thrown at him. Wolves, hunters, demons, John took it all without flinching. 

They put on an old movie and John dropped off within ten minutes, his face smoothing out in sleep. It was comforting, sitting on the couch together, and Stiles didn’t bother to get up and turn off the TV when it was over. He let it play over and over, letting the background music and his father’s deep breaths lull him into a more comfortable sleep than he had had in a while. 

Right as he was on the edge of drifting off, he remembered what he had forgotten in the stir fry. He forgot the fucking soy sauce.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not my favorite chapter. It's a little boring and, possible trigger alert, contains multiple mentions of suicide and depressive thoughts. I tried to add some action in there to even it out, but if you don't feel comfortable reading it, or you just want to skip, I will summarize it in the end notes.  
> PS. The Sheriff's name will always be John to me. I'm just too used to it. Sorry.

Sheriff John Stilinski was determined to have a good summer. 

The sheriff’s department had just hired not one, not two, but five new officers, all of whom were actually qualified to do their job in a town as unexpectedly volatile as Beacon Hills. Which meant that John didn’t have to work doubles every weekday and he would actually start to get his weekends off again. He hadn’t had a day off in almost four months, and to say he was looking forward to it was an understatement. 

The town had been pretty quietly lately, as far as the police were concerned. Certain unmentionable recent events had led to some changes in the way police patrols were run and it seemed to be helping on the human front as much as the supernatural. Either less people were breaking laws, or they were getting better at not getting caught. John was betting on the former. 

Sure there were still people speeding, couples getting in fights, and kids out getting drunk, but they were really no big deal. He could live with those minor annoyances. Hell, those minor annoyances used to be the biggest part of his job. 

It was the crimes of the supernatural sort that John typically had trouble wrapping his head around. He had been very sorry to see Chris Argent, a man who had actually experience in hunting monsters, leave town. 

John understood why he had to go, though. If things had gone differently, John wouldn’t have been able to stay either. 

Chris had been kind enough to give him some of the more untraditional weapons he had before he left, wolfsbane bullets and silver knives, that sort of thing, as well as some brief training on how and when to use them. He left a cell phone number too, but John hadn’t brought himself to call it. He didn’t know what to say.

The supernatural problems had died down after Stiles’ possession, thank God. Stiles immediately stopped being involved in both his father’s police work and his friends, and John had been pretty much left in the dark for a while. He couldn’t allow that. He needed to know what else was out there. He needed to keep his family safe. He was force to go straight to the source.

He made Scott meet with him once a week at the station and give him a no holds barred update on anything supernatural. Luckily, there was almost never anything to report.  
A couple of omega’s had stumbled into the territory early in the spring, but they had just passed though, no trouble at all. Apparently there were also a of couple witches who had set up shop downtown, but they had introduced themselves to the pack first thing. They claimed to mean no trouble and opened a coffee shop, of all things. Scott, in his normal naiveté, was willing to give them a chance. 

Lydia’s whispered promise to keep an eye on them made John feel a lot better than Scott’s inclination to trust them. 

In fact, it was so quiet that John would have thought that Scott was lying to him, if he didn’t know from watching the kid grow up that Scott was just a terrible liar. So John took the silence as a blessing and didn’t question it. 

Most important to John’s determination that things were looking up was the fact that Stiles was doing, well, not great but defiantly better. He had nightmares, sure, and didn’t always eat like he should, and spaced out occasionally, but all in all, he was doing damn phenomenal.  


Because right after Allison had died, John had been terrified for his son. Stiles had been absolutely destroyed about her death, and his minor role in it. He sat up in his bedroom staring dully at the walls, never sleeping, never talking, never doing anything, no matter how much John begged.

John had taken him to doctors, who adjusted his dose of Adderall and added Ambien and Prozac. He took him to a therapist, who Stiles refused to talk to. He begged his son to open up to him. 

None of it worked and Stiles just keep staring at the walls with a dead look in his eyes. He had given up on life.

John had always been careful with his sidearm. He never wore it around the house and always unloaded it before putting it in the locked bedside table. He had countless conversations, mostly when Stiles was younger but a few recently too, about proper gun safety and how Stiles was never to touch it. 

John became paranoid about it. The second he got home, he put the gun and all his ammo in the safe. As well as Stiles’ prescriptions and eventually the over the counter medicines, when he realized how much of them his kid had been taking. He changed the safe’s combination weekly. But, doing all this didn’t make him feel any better as his son seemed to drift further away from him, caught up in his own head.

There wasn’t some magical moment were everything was fixed, an instant where Stiles saw the light and became himself again. It just took time. It took a week before Stiles took a shower. Two weeks before he got out of bed without John having to pull him up. A month before Stiles met his gaze. Three long months before he got to see his son smile again. 

But things got better. They did, even though Stiles was different now. John got used to his kid just being quieter and less outgoing, staying in and not hanging out with his pack, his friends. He got used to the constant nightmares and the occasional zone out in which he had to drag his son back from inside his own head.

All in all, even though it broke his heart, he was thankful to hear his son screaming himself awake in his bedroom every night. Because that meant his kid was still alive. Which has more than Chris Argent could say.  
\------  
John got to enjoy a lovely two weeks of summer before everything went to shit. 

Work went smoothly, for the most part, excluding a rather gruesome murder downtown that didn’t have a single suspect but that Scott had assured him was not supernatural. The new deputies were settling nicely and John was officially off doubles.

Stiles and he had compromised on two summer college classes. John had relented and allowed him to take a Biology course since Stiles had insisted he needed it to take his next science course in the fall. 

The second class was actually at Beacon Hills Community College. John had been determined not to let Stiles take it, until he realized that it was Polish as a second language course.

Claudia had spoken Polish fluently. It had been her first language, though her English was very good as well. Stiles had actually learned Polish before English, even though John didn’t know more than the basics. She had thought it was funny, to have her two year old son jabbering away to his father, knowing John had no idea what was being said. He would just nod along then look to Claudia for a translation. 

By the time Stiles was three, John learned enough to understand his son, and Stiles learned English. The family would speak both at home, and sometimes Stiles forgot not everyone did, much to the dismay of his frustrated pre-school teachers who had to deal with it. 

But, after Claudia passed, it had all stopped. In middle school, Stiles had chosen Spanish as his second language choice and he had gotten fairly fluent. He made Scott learn it as well, because ‘damn it Scott you’re half Hispanic and you need to know your mother’s language’. Spanish became their private langue, never mind that half of California spoke it as well, and Polish was left behind, only spoken softly at a grave site a few times year. 

The language class was four hours at the college every Friday. John saw it as Stile trying to reconnect with his past and figured it was a step it the right direction. 

Apparently, the two classes weren’t really enough to keep his son busy in the summer. The house would be spotless ever day when John got home. The laundry was always kept up and every night, Stiles would cook supper. And then pack the leftovers for his dad to take to work the next day.

To John’s surprise, he started to see his kid out of the house when he was on patrol. Afraid of what he might be getting up to, John shamelessly recruited Parish to help him spy and between the two of them, John had a pretty good idea of how his kid was spending his days.

In the early morning, before the sun made it too hot because this summer was turning into a scorcher, the kid would be out jogging at the park. After that he went home and cleaned and did his school work, presumably. In the afternoons, he would just be out driving seemingly aimlessly, but would always be home by three.

Occasionally the sheriff would see the jeep parked at the preserve, but Stiles was never in it. John knew Derek was back, but he hoped the boys weren’t out at the old Hale house. It was less stable than ever and the city was talking about tearing it down once and for all.

Sometimes Stiles went out with Danny, getting fast food or once, to a movie. A group of guys would practice lacrosse a couple times a week and Danny and Stiles were always there too.

John was thrilled. Stiles had more color to his face, and although he certainly hadn’t gained any weight, he wasn’t losing it as fast anymore. He ate supper without being prodded and slept more, with fewer and fewer nightmares. 

John should have known it wouldn’t last. 

It was a Friday in early June. John had planned to finish his paperwork early and take Stiles out. They hadn’t gone to their favorite Italian place in a while and the past few weeks called for a celebration with pasta and garlic bread, followed by a weekend of loafing on the couch and watching baseball. 

Those plans went out the window as soon as John walked into the station. The parents of the girl who had been murdered downtown were there and they were furious that it hadn’t been solved. John tried to explain that without a murder weapon, motive, or a witness, there wasn’t much the police could do. They didn’t care and left threatening to sue.

It went downhill from there. The state department came in for a surprise inspection, and the inspector looked less than impressed, as drunk after drunk was hauled in. Seriously, it was the middle off the afternoon, there was no reason for this many people to be this drunk. 

Then there were multiple reports shots fired out north of town, but by the time John and the other officers got there, there were no people or guns. Just a bunch of empty casings and a stain in the dirt that looked suspiciously like blood.

John ended up out in the hills north of town until dark, looking for any clues. As he drove back to town, his cell phone began to buzz. 

John signed and glanced at the empty road in front of him before he grabbed his cell and began to read the texts even as they continued to come in in rapid succession.

10:04 am -Stiles: Dad, can you come home early today?

10:45-Stiles: It’s not a good day.

11:56 am-Stiles: Dad?

12:05 pm-Stiles: I called the station. They said you guys were really busy. I’ll make something for us for supper and leave yours in the fridge. Don’t pick anything up.

3:03 pm-Stiles: Could you just call me?

5:45 pm-Stiles: The station says you were called out after some shots fired. Please call me.

6:01 pm Stiles: Dad, I don’t know who else to call. Just tell me you’re ok. 

6:56 pm Melissa: John, I just got a really weird call from Stiles. Give me a call back.

7:18 pm Melissa: I drove by your house and the jeep was there. I knocked but he didn’t answer. Call me.

8:01 pm Stiles : Dad is any of this real?

“Fuck!” John swore and pushed down on the gas. It was 8:05 pm. He must have been out of cell phone range most of the day out in the hills. He called Stiles but it went straight to voicemail.

He got on the radio. “Parish, something’s wrong with Stiles. I’m heading home. Take me off active duty codes until I get back to you.”

The answer back was instantly. “Copy that, Sherriff. You need an ambo?”

A shutter ran through him at the thought and he pushed his cruiser just a little faster, flipping on his lights, but not the sirens. He was close to home, but he needed to be there now. 

“Negative” It came out harsher than he meant it too.

“Copy”. 

Parish would understand. He had been a sympathetic ear to listen to since all this started, even if he didn’t know about the werewolf aspect of it. 

John tried Stiles’ cell again but still got no answer. His stomach twisted. This couldn’t be happening. Stiles had been doing so well. He couldn’t be spiraling down again. Not now, not again.

John took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He was a cop. He dealt with emergencies on a daily basis. This was no different. He would find his son, his healthy and living son, and deal with the rest as it came. 

He squealed into his driveway and jumped out of the car, not bothering to turn it off or even close the door.

“Stiles!” he bellowed as he unlocked the front door and ran into the house. 

No answer. John ran through the kitchen, living room and downstairs bathroom. Everything looked fine. There was no sign of a struggle, or, thank God, blood.

It wasn’t until John was halfway up the stairs that he heard the shower running. He sprinted to the upstairs bathroom.

The door was shut and John let himself hope that Stiles was just taking too long in the shower, that he hadn’t hear his phone ring and that everything was fine.

That hope was dashed when he opened the door. No steam billowed out. In fact, it was cold from the shower spray in the small room and that filled John with dread.

Cold showers. That is what people took when they overdosed. Not that it actually helped with an OD but the myth remained.

John’s hands shook as he reached for the shower curtain. 

“Stiles.” he pleaded as he pulled it away. 

His son was sitting in the bottom of the tub fully dressed, water running over his face. His arms were wrapped loosely around his knees, pulling them up to his chest. His head was lying against the far wall, his face pale and eyes dull and unblinking.

“Jesus, son” John breathed, hand reaching out for his neck, looking for a pulse.

It was there, slow but steady. His son was alive. John took a deep breath and tried not to sob. 

At his touch, Stiles turned his head towards his father, blinking slowly.

“Son, what did you take?” John said gently, reaching for his radio. “I need to tell them what you took.”

Stiles stared at him, looking confused and lost, but his pupils were normal sized and he seemed aware.

“I didn’t take anything Tata.” he slurred out. “I just, my head was so full and I couldn’t think. I was so hot, everything felt like fire. I felt like I was there again and I saw her die and I couldn’t think, and I needed you to tell me what was real, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t, please, please, please.”

As his words turned into begging, Stiles launched himself out of the tub and at his father. They laid there for a long moment, Stiles cold and shaking in his father’s arms and John just so incredible thankful to have him there.

\-----  
John carefully stripped his son of his wet clothes, taking care not to notice how many ribs he could count, and looking for any sign of track marks. Finding none, he wrapped Stiles up in towels. Stiles couldn’t stop shaking and John wasn’t sure how much was the cold water and how much was shock. He left him on the floor with a promise to be quick, with the small space heater they kept in the bathroom for cold winter mornings switched on. 

He went downstairs and turned off the car. He didn’t want to use the police radio, so he shot Parish a text that Stiles was fine, but he wouldn’t be back in until Monday. 

Then, he called Melissa.

“John? Oh, thank God. Is everything alright? Stiles sounded really upset.” Her voice was sharp through the phone.

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe. He seems ok physically at least.” John rubbed the back of his neck hating to ask but needing to. “Do you think you can swing by and take a look? I think he’s fine, I would just feel better.”

“Of course. I’ll be there in 10. I’ll bring my stuff.” She hung up the phone without a goodbye. 

That what the Sherriff loved about Melissa. No questions asked- she would just come over. He thanked his lucky stars that his kid had latched on to Scott when they were kids and drug the two families together. The McCall’s were good people, both of them. Stiles would remember that, eventually.

He headed back to the upstairs bathroom, stopping only to grab some PJ’s for Stiles. It was warmer in the small room when he got back and Stiles seemed much more aware.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted out as soon as John walked back in the room. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Please don’t be mad.”

John just clasped him on the back of the head fondly.

“I’m not mad son. Yes, you scared me, but you didn’t mean to. You did everything right. You had a bad day and you tried to get ahold of me. When you couldn’t, you called Melissa. Who is on the way over by the way.”

“Does she have to?” Stiles whined, sounding like the old Stiles enough that John had to fight back a smile for a moment. “I don’t want her to see. I mean, she doesn’t need to. I’m fine.” Stiles’ eyes filled with tears that he wiped away before they could fall, but John still noticed.

“I know son, I know.” 

John helped him to his feet and began to dress him with the familiarity only a parent can have.

Melissa showed up only a few minutes later. She examined Stiles quickly and professionally, without even a hint of pity in her eyes. She declared Stiles sober and fit.  
“I told you so Dad.” Stiles said, with a grin. He held out his hand for his father to help him to his feet. Stiles leaned on his father as they walked to his bedroom, Melissa trailing behind. 

Melissa rounded on John the second that Stiles door closed.

“John, do you have any idea how scared I was tonight? When Stiles called me, I thought, the worst.” she hissed, grabbing John’s arm and dragging him down the hall, away from any listening ears.

“Scott overheard the conversation. He was frantic. The only reason that Scott wasn’t here dragging Stiles out of that bathroom himself was the mountain ash barrier that Stiles has apparently put around your entire yard. No werewolves can even get close.”

John’s heart pounded in chest yet again at the thought of his kid hurting himself. “You said he was fine.” he accused.

“I said I didn’t think he took any drugs. He isn’t fine John. He’s too thin and he is exhausted and he isn’t moving on. He is going to wear down, and he is going to give up. Either his body will or his mind. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he will. ”

“You think I don’t know that!” John yelled, as the anger and the fear from the night finally came to a head. “You think I don’t worry that every single day I am one day closer to losing my son! I don’t know how to fix him Melissa. I don’t know how.”

As quickly as the anger came, it left, and John sunk down the hallway wall to sit on the floor, feeling worse than ever. Melissa sat as well, grabbing his hand and leaning her head on his shoulder

“I know. I know it’s hard. Just be there for him”.  
\------  
Morning came. John had stayed on his son’s floor until early morning, not sleeping, but listening to each his kid’s soft breathes. Stiles hadn’t woken him up with screaming. In fact, Stiles had managed to sleep until late morning, worn out from his episode.

By the time Stiles stumbled downstairs, John had a plan in place. His slid a plate of eggs and toast across the table and commanded “Eat.”

Stiles opened his mouth to talk, argue, or apologize, but John stopped him short with a stern look. “No. I don’t need to know what happened last night, not if you don’t want to tell me. And I don’t’ want to hear apologies. You didn’t let me down. If anything, I let you down and I’m sorry.”

“Dad, please it’s not your fault. Let’s just pretend it never happened.” Stiles looked at him with his saddest puppy dog eyes, but Scott’s had always been better and John didn’t fall for them in the least.

“Eat your food.” He shoved the plate gently closer to Stiles.

“We have a problem. I‘ve been giving you space and trying to let you work through everything on your own. Based on last night, it isn’t working. And I refuse to ever have another night like the last one. You won’t talk to a professional so I’m going to do the next best thing. I’m not letting you out of my sight. From now until the end of summer, you’re coming to work with me.”

“Dad, that’s not fair!” Stiles complained “I have things to do. I’ve been working out. Danny and I have gone to the movies and stuff, plus I have classes.”

John didn’t back down.

“If you want to work out, you can do it at the station gym. You and Danny can still hang out. He can pick you up at the station or you can go after work. And we will be done by 4:00pm most nights, so you’ll have plenty of time to do your schoolwork.”

Stiles drummed his fork on the table a few times before finally taking a bite of eggs. He grimaced, John was not a good cook, but kept on eating while talking.

“What about my language class? It’s actually at the college, you know. As in I have to be there to pass.”

“You can have Friday’s off to go to class. Consider it a perk of being the sheriff’s kid.”

“Isn’t hiring your son called nepotism? That had got to be illegal. Not to mention, it won’t look good in the next election. Why take the risk dad, why take the risk? Wait am I even going to get paid? Or is this like an unpaid internship? Because that is not cool. Its modern day slavery and I will not be repressed.” 

John grinned at his kid’s rambling between bites. This was going well.

“Technically you won’t be working for me. You will be working through the city in a high school summer work program. Buddy of mine at city hall was able to get you in. I just happened to mention how nice it would be if you were assigned to the Sherriff’s department. And yes you will get minimum wage.”

Stiles pouted as he finished his eggs, but didn’t seem able to come up with any more excuses. They finished up in silence.

It wasn’t until they had washed and put away the dishes that Stiles finally spoke again. 

“It was her birthday.”

John stiffened and his son continued.

“Allison’s. Other hunters, they were in town as like a tribute or something. I didn’t know, I didn’t remember, until I was out jogging. They were all out drinking at the park, and I heard one of them say her name. I kinda lost it then.”

Stiles’ confession seemed to break him down and he stood at the counter, arms wrapped around himself looking at the floor. 

John tried to wrap him into a hug but Stiles pushed him away and went upstairs without another word. John wished Stiles was still five and believed a hug could take all the hurt away. 

John sighed. It was going to get better. It was going to be a good summer. It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the short version. John is still in contact with the Pack and doing his best to be a good cop. He is also very worried about Stiles' mental health. There is an incident in which John thinks Stiles might have tried to hurt himself. He did not. It prompts John to have Stiles go to work with him at the Sheriff's station.
> 
> Tata- Polish for daddy


	4. Chapter 4

Working at the Sheriff’s station wasn’t Stiles idea of a good time. Not because of the work, it just rubbed him wrong-knowing that the only reason he was there was because his daddy needed to keep an eye on him, like he was five. 

So he had a bad day. So he had a little bit of a breakdown and ended up so dissociated that he didn’t even remember getting in the shower. It didn’t mean he needed a babysitter.

The deputies weren’t bad, but they watched him, like all the time. A few of them knew him from the time he spent as a child hanging around the station. They treated him like they always did, teasing and mocking fondly. Hanging around them was fun. But a lot them were new and they treated him like the Sheriff’s son. Like he was going to run and tattle the second they did something wrong. 

It sucked. It wasn’t like he was doing anything important anyway. The Sheriff’s department was fully staffed again and didn’t really need his help. He mostly sorted parking tickets and answered the phone for Debbie, the ancient secretary, when she couldn’t get to it in time. 

He had a lot of down time most days. The old Stiles would have used the unsupervised time to poke around and get the dirt on the crimes of the town. The new Stiles mostly studied, though an occasional game of Candy Crush happened as well. Once in a while he worked out with Parish, that guy was strong for how skinny he looked, but the older man was generally too busy.

That’s why, when the ancient coffee pot finally gave out at the end of his second week of his forced employment, Stiles volunteered to make a coffee run at the local bookstore and coffee shop. It was new but they made a mean espresso and sold the weirdest secondhand novels. He had actually managed to find a couple fairly accurate books on the supernatural there before. He had left them on Lydia’s doorstep. 

It was only a couple blocks down and Stiles enjoyed the walk. It was hot and dry. It hadn’t rained since summer started, and people were already starting to worry about a drought. Most of the people around him were in short and t-shirts, but Stiles had worn his usual button up despite the heat. He still ran cold, a side effect of the weight loss, but the heat of the sun warmed him and by the time he got to the shop, his cheeks were red. 

It wasn’t crowded this late in the morning. Stiles walked right up to the counter where the barista was turned away cleaning cups, pulling out the list of drinks he had taken down before he left. 

“Dude, I’m sorry in advance for this, but I have a ridiculously long order.” Stiles started, as the barista turned around. 

“I need, Derek.” Stiles stopped mid sentence, dumbfounded.

“You need me?” Derek said sarcastically with his arms crossed, but with a softening around his eyes that Stiles had long ago learned meant he was amused, even though he looked like he was about to murder someone. 

“No, I just” Stiles blushed and what was wrong with him. He knew Derek was back in town. There was no reason to act like this. “You just surprised me. Being here and whatnot.”

“What, I can’t have a job?” Derek’s gaze hardened slightly as he went on the defensive. 

“What? No, I was just surprised you choose to work here. I mean, it’s like of a lot public interaction and you don’t really like, well, people.”

Derek just shrugged and snatched the list of coffees from Stiles’ hand. 

“These had better not all be for you.” he said. 

“Dude, even I couldn’t drink all of those on my best day. They’re for the department.”

Derek cocked his head to the side, and did he even realize how much like a puppy he looked. 

“Why are you buying the Sheriff’s department coffee?”

“I’m not buying it for them. I’m picking it up for them. Because I’m their official unofficial intern that happens to get paid.”

“You’re working for your dad?”

“See that’s what I said everyone would say! I totally told him. No, I’m working for the city. It just happens to be at the sheriff’s department.”

Derek’s eyes went back to the list. 

“This is going to take a bit. Look around or sit or whatever” He gestured at the bookshelves and tables to the left of the coffee counter.

Stiles didn’t mean to end up in the fantasy section. He didn’t. He had been reading though the ‘classic’s’ list he found online. Which contained a lot of long boring books and up next was Wuthering Heights. That was he was looking for. 

But, he still ended up looking at the few fantasy titles the store had, trying to decide if one called “How to Train Your Vampire” was accurate or just a clever use of popular media to sell a novel. He skimmed a few pages, and decided it wasn’t worth it. There wasn’t much of anything that interesting on any of the shelves actually.

Which made sense. Considering a certain werewolf bibliophile worked here now. Derek was probably scooping up all the good books as they came before anyone else could. 

“No fair at all man” Stiles let a bit of a whine that he knew made Derek growl creep into his voice as he walked back to the counter and leaned against it.

As anticipated, Derek growled, though it was much more quiet than usual, considering he was in public.

“What Stiles.” 

“Was there a question in there? I didn’t hear it.”

Derek slammed the to-go cup of coffee he had just finished up on the counter much harder than necessary. God it was fun to whine him up.

“What is it Stiles?” Derek said through gritted teeth. 

Stiles grinned. He had missed his sourwolf. He didn’t remember when exactly he learned what annoyed Derek, but man it was fun to push his buttons. Derek acted the same as always, treated him the same as before, and it was wonderful. 

“You can’t take all the good books. That’s just not fair. What about the rest of us? We need books too. For brain development and whatnot.” Stiles said.

Derek continued to fill the remaining coffee cups before answering. “I can and I will. And I get an employee discount.” 

“Oh so that’s why you work here. Cheap books. Let me tell you, sell your Camaro and that will keep you swimming in novels for like two year.”

Derek pushed eight cups of coffee drinks in two travel containers at him without answering but Stiles knew that had to be the reason. There wasn’t any other reason for him to be working here.

Stiles handed over money which Derek took wordlessly and turned to walk out.

“You smell better. Not right, but better.” Derek was staring at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle. It made Stiles’ stomach hurt and he wanted him to stop it. 

“Still a weird thing to say to someone.” Stiles turned behind him and gave Derek a small smile. “But thanks.”  
\-----  
Stiles settled into a routine. He went to work with his dad and helped with the mind-numbing paperwork. As the days went by with no sign of another breakdown, John seemed to relax. He let Stiles do a little more, like run paperwork from offices to the jail and even help book criminals, occasionally. Stiles still had plenty of time to work on homework while he was at the Sheriff’s department but at least the days weren’t quite so long. And doing his homework at work meant his evening were usually free. 

Not that he did too much after work. He still cooked supper most nights. He had been on a Mexican food kick. There were a lot of dishes with beans as the main protein instead of meat and he was going to try them all, even if the after effects of dinner didn’t always smell so nice. 

Stiles started running in the cool of the evenings now, instead of the morning. He still practiced lacrosse with Danny and his friends in the evening but they hadn’t hung out outside of that in a while. But, he was getting better at the sport. He scored on Danny twice last time. 

Stiles mostly watched movies in his room in his free time. He thought about calling Ethan or even Isaac and inviting them over, but didn’t quite have the courage. 

Debbie, the secretary of all people, ended up being the best thing ever. She brought him cookies, homemade cookies, like every day. She would only give them to him if he finished his lunch but they were worth it. He managed to gain a little weight because of it, and that seemed to make his dad happy.

She let him ramble on days he felt good and chatted with him about whatever popped into his head. She never told him to shut up, no matter how much he talked, and even had plenty to say as well. She had grandkids a couple years younger than him, and she liked Harry Potter and Marvel, but thought DC was trying too hard to make a comeback.   
She let him sulk in silence on the days he felt so tired he could barely move faster than she could, slipping him an extra cookie and hugging him every night before he went home.

Luckily, there had been more and more good days lately. 

The coffee maker was replaced quickly, cops like their coffee, but Stiles convinced a couple of the full time guys to splurge on Mondays, because that’s the worst days of the week guys and you deserve it, and he would pick them up fancy drinks at the coffee shop. Derek was always there, not that Stiles had memorized his schedule, Monday through Friday, 6am to 2pm, because that would be super weird, but Stiles had totally memorized his schedule. It wasn’t on purpose; he just didn’t have a lot to occupy his mind and Derek made it way too easy.

Nothing of much interest really happened on the weekly coffee runs. Stiles would force himself to act upbeat, no matter how he was feeling, and would say the stupidest things he could think of. Derek would roll his eyes. It was great as long as Stiles didn’t thing too much about how this was his only interaction with any of his old friends, which he was careful to never do. 

Things were looking up.  
\-----  
Stiles hadn’t been snooping. He didn’t do that anymore. 

His dad had asked him take the files from his office while John went out on a patrol and run them back to the input desk in the jail, something he did all the time now. The file had been open right in the middle of the desk and Stiles had just looked.

It was the incident report from the shots fired on the day that Stiles hadn’t been able to get a hold of his father. 

None of the casings belonged to any weapons registered to any know criminals. Most were from rifles’ though a few were from a 9mm with a grove in the barrel. 

None of that really mattered, however, because the large pool of blood turned out not to be human. It was canine so the case was going to be closed.

Canine. Canine blood. 

Stiles phone was out and he had pressed 2 on his speed dial before he was aware of it. 

Scott picked up on the first ring, before Stiles could chicken out and hang up. 

“Stiles?” Scott sounded breathless “Are you OK? Where are you?”

“I’m fine. I’m in my dad’s office” Stiles was surprised by how calm his voice sounded, considering how hard his hands were shaking. 

“I read one of his files. That there was a shooting in the hills a few weeks ago and that they found canine blood. Is the pack ok? I mean, no one is hurt are they?” Stiles spit it all out in one breath, and if Scott hadn’t had years of experience listening to Stiles, he wouldn’t have understood it.

“Oh yeah the thing with the hunters. Yeah we’re all fine. They killed an actual dog. Apparently, they were super drunk and they thought a husky was werewolf and shot it. Poor thing.”

Scott actually sounded upset about it. Only Scott would be sad that a dog had died when it could have easily been one of his friends. 

“You’re sure everyone is fine. You’re sure?” Stiles had to make sure, he had to know for sure. 

“Yeah, man, everyone is fine. They’re all here right now. I’m looking at them. They’re fine.”

Stiles gripped the phone a little tighter. He wanted to know where they were. He wanted to see them himself. He wanted to hug Scott and roll his eyes at Isaac and his stupid scarfs. He wanted to sit between Lydia and Kira and listen to them talk about fashion and how he needed to wear something besides plaid. He even wanted to make friends with Ethan. He wanted his pack.

“Can I?” Stiles started, but Scott interrupted before he could get out the “come over.”

“No. Not tonight. Maybe sometime later in the summer. We’re just not ready yet. I’m not ready yet.” Scott’s voice was kind, but final.

Scott knew him so well. He knew how badly he missed his pack. And he wouldn’t let him have it. Stiles took a deep breath and tried to push away the growing anxiety before it became panic.

“Ok.” Stiles said finally and hung up.

He went back to the front desk, put on his headphones, laid his head down and blocked out the world.  
\-----  
The next couple of days were bad. Even getting out of bed and getting dressed was hard. He would start to get up, only to look around his room and not remember where he was. It was terrifying and left him shaking. Stiles blew off practicing with Danny and the boys after work and spent a lot of time driving around the town aimlessly, because if he didn’t know where he was, he wouldn’t be scared about not remembering it. 

Stiles had a hard time focusing at work too. It suddenly took all day to sort through the day’s parking tickets, instead of a few hours, and far too often he didn’t even hear the phone ring until Debbie yelled at him to pick it up. 

Debbie was nice about it. She made him cupcakes that he couldn’t make himself eat. She also didn’t tell his father about how much he wasn’t getting done. Instead, she helped him sort paperwork and took as many phone calls as she could; yelling at the caller’s when they got inpatient about how long they were on hold. 

The day Stiles saw a ghost again was a busy day at the station. A low level drug bust went down the night before and it had been a big one. The jail was full and there were files everywhere as people were processed into the system and the phone was ringing off the hook. 

Stiles knew it was a crazy day and was doing his best to focus and not drift away. He popped an extra Adderall and helped Debbie as best he could. Staying busy helped him feel better and he was happy enough for the distraction. 

“Stiles.” John called out from his office as Stile hung up the phone yet again. For drug dealers, these guys sure had a lot of friends. Three different people had called to ask if bail had been posted yet.

“Take these files to the jail. Wait there while Roger stamps them as processed then bring them back. And hurry.” John said, not even looking up from the mess on his desk as he instructed Stiles.

The jail was part of the station, protected from the offices by a steel door. In it, there was an open area with processing desk for fingerprinting and mug shots, as well as a bench that inmates were cuffed to while they were being processed in. There were only three holding cells, one male, one female, and a small one for inmates that needed to be separated. 

The jail at the Sheriff’s department was never meant to hold anyone for long, or very many inmates at a time. It was mostly for inmate’s right after arrest until they were processed and sent to the county jail, or for prisoners to be held directly before hearings at the court house. John also let the occasional drunk sleep it off in one of the cells. He was nice like that. 

As Stiles walked in, he was shocked by how many inmates were in there. Maybe the drug bust was a little bigger than he had thought. He hadn’t really paid attention when John had talked about it supper the night before.

Both cells were packed, and there was even an inmate in the segregation cell. There was also one sitting on the bench, a rough looking man with dark eyes, wild hair, and blood running down the side of his face. He looked dangerous in a way that Stiles was far too familiar with. He took an unconscious step back from the man.

“Holy shit, that’s a werewolf”. Stiles said under his breath as he glared at the man. He glared back but gave no indication that he had heard Stiles. 

They needed to put that man in the segregation cell. When the department had fixed the damage the from explosion and gun fight from last year, Stiles had convinced his dad, with a little help from Deaton, to ring the segregation cell with mountain ash, so that way if John ever did arrest a wolf, he would have some place to put it. 

He had tried to convince his dad to line the whole jail with it, but John wouldn’t have it. Something about how not all werewolves were dangerous. Personally, Stiles thought John hoped Derek or one of the others might join the force someday and wanted them to be able to come and go. It would help the Sheriff out a lot to have that kind of resource available. 

He was turning around to go tell his dad about the man when Roger called out to him. 

Roger was a one of John’s long time deputies and a good man for a crises, John always said. He looked frantic, pushing papers all around the desk and muttering. If Roger was flustered, things were bad.

“Stiles did you bring the input papers for these guys? Tyson took them to your father before I could stamp them and then disappeared, idiot, and if I don’t get it done within the hour these guys could all walk on a technicality.”

Stiles reluctantly stepped closer to the inmate in order to hand Roger the papers. He grabbed the files and immediately began to sort through them, muttering to himself. 

Tyson was one of the new hires, and yeah he was an idiot. He was a nice enough guy, but simply not competent enough for Stiles to like. It just felt like he liked the uniform more than the job and it showed in his work.

Stiles kept an eye on the inmate while he shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting for Roger to finish. The closer he looked, the less he likely he thought it was that the man was a werewolf. He looked dangerous and the dark eyes made him look wild, but he just didn’t hold himself like one, sniffing the air or cocking his head to hear the officers outside the door talk. Plus, if he was, regular cuffs wouldn’t hold him. Still, better safe than sorry. He would tell his dad. 

Before he could leave, Stiles realized something else about the man, something more disturbing than a werewolf in the jail, and his stomach dropped. The man was chained to the bench wrong. Very wrong.

Inmates were supposed to be facing the cells, with their hands bound behind them and cuffed to the metal bench. That way they didn’t have any leverage to try to get out of the cuffs, and they didn’t know how many deputies were in the room. There was always supposed to be at least two officers, but sometimes when it was busy, there couldn’t be.

Right now was only Stiles and Roger, and Roger was distracted. 

The man flexed his wrist and in a heart stopping moment, Stiles saw that somehow he had somehow gotten his cuff off of one hand. 

Stiles let out a shout as the man stood up, free from the bench.

“Sit the hell down,” Roger yelled as he drew his gun, wide eyed and shocked at the turn of events, as all inmates in the cell began to shout, telling him to let them out. “Stiles, get the Sheriff.”

Stiles turned and ran but before he could make it out of the room, a shot went off and hands grabbed him by the back of the shirt.

Stiles twisted and fought but the man grabbing him was stronger, much stronger. Within seconds, the man had his back against the empty wall across from the cells. He held Stiles out in front of him, blocking his own body with the kid’s. He took the cuffs, one end still locked on his wrist and the other held in his hand, and pulled the metal tight across Stiles neck, forcing his head up.

Ever since joining the pack, Stiles understood the importance of baring the neck. It was what beta’s did for the alpha, an act of submission. It was also a favorite place for the pack members to snuggle. Stiles lost track of the amount of times he had pushed Scott off when he randomly started smelling in his throat in public. It was an act of trust.

Having his throat at the mercy of this man was almost too much. Stiles pushed against the metal while his hands scraped the man’s arms, but there was no give and the metal bit into his skin harder. He let out a low whine and prayed his dad would show up soon.

“Get the fuck off me.” Stiles tried to sound threatening. 

“Shhh.” The man’s voice was soft and his breath rancid on Stile’s face. “I don’t want to hurt you. Just be good and we’ll walk out of here. Then maybe you can put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Stiles shuttered and struggled even harder, but it was no use. Something, either meth or the supernatural, was giving the man unbelievable strength.

Roger had his gun out and pointed at the man but wasn’t yelling instructions at them. He was talking frantically on his radio, but Stiles couldn’t hear what he was saying over the sound of his blood pounding in his ears.

The door of the jail burst open and Parish and his father burst in, along with two other officers. 

John already had his gun out and he immediately pointed at them. “It’s OK son. We’re going to get you out of this.” He looked perfectly calm, and if Stiles hadn’t spent his whole life watching his father handle emergencies, he wouldn’t have notice the lines of fear around his eyes. 

The man laughed with a hint of manic in it. “He’s your son! That’s perfect. You let your underage son work around criminals with you. Oh you’re lucky I got him before someone else did.” The man licked a strip up Stiles face as Stiles gagged. “Someone worse.”

“Shut up.” Parish said, his gun shaking almost imperceptibly in his grasp. 

“Stand down Parish” John jumped in before things could get out of control. “What are your demands?”

The man giggled and tighten the chain across Stiles neck. Stiles felt a dribble of blood begin to flow down his neck and onto his shirt as it got even harder to breathe.

“Dad please.” he tried to say but all that came out was a strangled gasp. His eyes felt like they were about to burst out of his head and he needed air.

“I want you to let me go. Let me walk out of here.” the man said, but he sounded far away. Stiles couldn’t figure out why he sounded so far away. 

“Okay. We’ll let you walk away. Just let him go.” John was using his cop voice now, trying to keep everyone calm. His dad was a good cop. He was a good dad.

More voices now, and then man was talking again, louder and the chain tighten even more. Stiles let it wash over him like water. He stopped scratching at the man, and stopped struggling, too tired to keep his arms up any longer.

“Stiles. Stiles, eyes up. Look at me.” Stiles heard his father’s voice but he couldn’t find him. All he saw was white and for a moment he thought he had gone blind. He blinked hard and realized that his eyes had dropped to the floor. He idly wondered whose blood would be splatter against the clean white tiles today. 

It took more effort than it should have to find his father’s gaze but when he finally did his dad’s gun was no longer pointed at him. No one’s were. 

“Stiles. We’re going to back up and let you guys go through. No one is going to stop you. This man is going to walk out the front door with you and then he is going to let you go.” John’s voice was so calm and for a moment Stiles felt a flicker of hope that this really was all going to turn out alright. 

“Be good and I won’t have to kill you. Then, maybe we can have some fun together.” whispered the man into Stiles ear. He pulled Stiles tight against his body, too tight, and together they took a step, then another.

They made it about four feet before Stiles stumbled. Thinking he was trying to run, the man pulled the chain back across Stiles’ neck hard and Stiles felt a gush of blood pour out at the same time as his air way was completely cut off. 

Voices yelled and there was the deafening crack of a nearby shot. Stiles felt himself being dragged to the ground and everything went bright white.  
\-----  
There was no pain.

Stiles opened his eyes and jumped to his feet. He was in the woods again. It was the same as before but better because now he knew that somewhere out there was his mother.

The trees were still beautiful, soft and green and the breeze played with his hair. Somehow it smelled better than ever, but he didn’t bother to enjoy it. He had things to do.

Stiles grinned and took off running through the trees. His mother was here, somewhere. He just had to find her.

It only took moments to find the same clearing as before. Or, at least, Stiles assumed it was the same. It was hard to tell. All the trees looked the same, despite all the time Stiles had been spending at the preserve, trying to teach himself how to track through the woods. It wasn’t a really a skill you could learn of wikihow.

Stiles checked the clearing frantically, looking any sign of his mother.

“Come on, come on” he muttered to himself as he looked behind the surrounding trees. There weren’t a lot of places to hide. She had to be here.

“Stiles?” came a feminine voice from behind him.

It wasn’t his mother’s voice. It was too young and didn’t remind of being wrapped safe in soft arms. But it was still familiar and he turned anyway.

Heather, Stiles childhood friend, stood there. They had been close, very close, growing up and she had been ripped away from life far too soon. Her death at the hands of the darach had been brutal, but now she showed no signs of it. There wasn’t a horrible wound on her throat or dark bruises that stood out even in death.

Stiles crossed the clearing and pulled her into a tight hug. She was warm and smelled like the stupid Sephora perfume she always wore that she said smelled like flowers. Stiles had always said it made her smell like a candle factor explosion. It was exquisite.

“You look wonderful” Stiles said, his face still buried in Heather’s hair. At some point, she had started hugging him back and it was perfect. 

“I’m so sorry. For everything. It should have been me. If I had stayed down in that basement with you, none of this would have happened.”

A cold breeze came out of nowhere and Heather shivered in his arms. Stiles held her tighter but moved his head from her hair so he could look at her face.

She looked the same, just like he remembered in almost every way. But she looked sad, so sad, with wide blue eyes full of unshed tears.

This wasn’t right. Heather was never sad. She was always full of life, cracking jokes and running around so quickly that even Stiles had trouble keeping up. Stiles had never seen her cry, not even when she had cracked her head falling out of a tree in the backyard and needed three stitches.

“Stiles, it’s not your fault. None of it is. I don’t’ blame you. But, listen you have to go.” Heather looked more upset than ever, as she pulled herself out of Stiles grip.

“Why do people keep saying that? I want to stay here with you.” Stiles reached out and tried to grab her hand like he had done a hundred times before, but Heather took another step back.

“No Stiles you don’t understand. You can’t stay here.” Heather’s gaze fell on something behind Stiles and she looked terrified. 

Stiles whipped around, prepared to face a monster, but there was nothing there. Just more trees, looking gloomy as the sun began to hide behind the gathering clouds.

Stiles opened his mouth to ask why he couldn’t stay, to demand answers, but instead of words, there was a sudden unbearable pain in this throat. He fell to his knees, hands reaching up to grab at his neck and he closed his eyes. 

The pain in his neck grew and he tried to rub it away, but he couldn’t. He opened his eyes, hoping to still see tree tops, but instead saw the cold florescent lights of the jail.

The noise came back all at once. There were the yells of the inmates locked in their cells. There were deputes on radio’s calling for ambulances and backup. 

Most importantly, there was his father, kneeling over him, eyes locked with his own, both hands on his neck, putting pressure on the wound.

“You’re going to be okay.” John said in a composed voice that cut through the noise everything else. “You’re okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favorite chapter alert! Its basically all Derek and Stiles,( finally) and I'm so excited to finally put it up. It's a little longer than i would like, but I couldn't find a place to split it up. As always, any errors are all mine. Comments are welcome!!

The pain was bad, and he used to run with wolves, so he had a pretty decent pain tolerance. Stiles knew he was making it worse by panicking. His uneven, forced, breathes send jolts of agony through his neck but he couldn’t make himself stop, make himself calm down. It had happened again, just like with his mother. It wasn’t a dream. He had been sent, somewhere, again and had seen Heather. 

It didn’t make sense, how could this be happening. He had sworn off the supernatural, had been kicked out of the pack. It couldn’t have been real. But, Heather had felt so solid, so alive, in his arms. 

Stiles wanted nothing more than to pass back out, to either be sent back to his friend, or to just fade to black. But his father’s worried face right above him kept him awake. John kept talking to him, a constant stream of comforting words that Stiles couldn’t make out, but still had the intended effect. Stiles heartbeat began to slow and his breathing evened out. 

As he calmed down, he became aware of the chaos around him. The inmates had quieted down, but the cops were frantic. Deputies Stiles couldn’t recognize rushed back and forth, saying things and gesturing, and yelling about regulations and protocols. Parrish was nearby, yelling at someone to move the body right now, regulations be damned. Roger was close too, telling his father that the ambulance was here, that they were coming in. 

Stiles tried to sit up, but his father held him down with a strong hand on his chest, while keeping the other bracket against his neck, keeping pressure on the wound but also keeping Stiles from moving his head.

“Don’t try to move.” John said, still sounding so calm. Stiles wondered if his father was in shock. He wondered if he was in shock. “We don’t know how badly your neck is hurt. Its better if you stay still.”

John was worried he was paralyzed, Stiles realized. Stiles didn’t think he was. He could feel his feet and move his hands. His neck just hurt like a motherfucker. 

Stiles tried to reassure his dad that he was fine, but all that would come out of his mouth was a pained whine. He tried again, but still couldn’t form words.

Stiles was a talker. Always had been, ever since he first started babbling in Polish and the tender age of eight months. Recently, granted, he had been talking a little less, but the thought of not being able to say anything at all was unthinkable. A fresh jolt of fear hit him, just as the paramedics arrived.

Stiles’ panic grew as the paramedics began to work on him, their hands replacing his fathers on his neck and an IV being placed in his arm with a sting. A plastic brace was strapped around his neck and something cool was placed there was well. Stiles felt cold all over and he could feel himself shaking.

Stiles raised his hand, pawing at the bodies around him, trying to find his father, who was out of eyesight. He was afraid that his job had pulled him away. The jail was a mess, after all, and the department would need their Sheriff. 

A sturdy hand gripped his and he knew he hadn’t been abandoned. “Deep breathes,” his father’s voice told him. “In and out.”

Something was placed over his face, a breathing mask, and Stiles wanted it off. It was too close, everyone was too close. Stiles began to fight the hands holding him in earnest and there was a sharp bite in his arm and the world slowly faded to grey.  
\------  
Stiles never completely passed out, unfortunately. He stayed in the world of grey, feeling himself being moved and hearing the sounds of strained voices saying scary things like possible compromised airway and brain damage.

Things didn’t come into focus for a while, if the stiffness in his body was anything to go by. There was the too familiar sound of a heart monitor beeping away and the mask was still on his face. 

His father was in a chair by the bedside, still in his uniform and fast asleep. John look unhurt, but worn down. He always looked worn down and it killed Stiles that it was his fault. If he could just stay out of trouble, maybe his dad could be happier. Maybe his dad would look healthy, not tired and pale and far too old for his years. 

Stiles opened his mouth before remembering that he couldn’t talk. He didn’t want to try and hear nothing. He zoned out for a bit, watching the light slowly leave the room as the sun sunk down. 

His father woke up with a groan just as the streetlights flickered on. John smiled when he saw his son was awake.

He grabbed Stiles’ hand and Stiles couldn’t help but think that this was the most his dad had touched him in weeks. Stiles knew it was his own fault that they didn’t hug anymore or even brush shoulders when they worked in the kitchen, but touch had bugged him ever since the possession. Physical contact made him feel like his skin was crawling. But today, it was kinda nice. 

“You’re alright. You’re in the hospital but you’re doing fine.” John’s voice was soft “They ran some test while you were out. To see if there was any damage from, umm, all of it.” John clearly couldn’t bear to say the work strangulation and for the first time he looked away from his son’s face and what had to be some massive bruising on his neck. 

Stiles made a writing motion with his free hand and John understood. He pulled out the note pad and pen he always carried with him on the job.

“What happened? Who was that guy? Was he human?” Stiles wrote.

John cleared his throat and explained. “Brandon Myers, human, yes. Low level drug dealer from the bust last night. He was the most compliant of all the suspects and so was left chained to the bench to be processes last. It looks like Tyson is the one who chained him up wrong. Myers dislocated his thumb and got out of the cuffs. Apparently when you walked in, it looked like an opportunity to escape.”

John’s face tightened a little more and he brushed his hand through Stiles’ hair as he continued on. “He has outstanding warrants for sexual assault in a couple different states, besides the drug charges. He knew if he went to jail, he wasn’t getting out. We were going to let him walk out with you Stiles, I swear, but then you stumbled and he pulled back. I thought he was going to kill you. I couldn’t let him take you. I took the shot. He’s dead.”

John’s eyes welled up and tears began to fall. Stiles couldn’t stand that he had done that to his dad. He could take almost anything, but not his father’s tears. Ignoring the pull of the IV and the many monitors that began to blare in protest, he pulled himself up and wrapped his father in hug. 

“It’s okay” Stiles whispered, and although it was low and hoarse and made his throat feel like it was on fire, it was still audible. He relaxed marginally. He could still talk; his voice wasn’t taken from him.

A nurse hurried in, drawn in by the frantic wailing of the now disconnected heart monitor leads, to see the two men still wrapped up together. 

“Well,” she said in a no-nonsense voice. “Looks like someone’s awake.”

She walked over and pushed Stiles back on the bed, reconnecting wires as she talked.

“Your tests came back. It doesn’t look like there was any soft tissue damage, just a lot of swelling, which is to be expected. They’re going to keep you here overnight, to make sure that the swelling doesn’t compromise your airway, but if it doesn’t, you can leave tomorrow. You’re very lucky. The chain was pulled low enough on your neck that it missed your vocal cords completely. The cut on your neck wasn’t deep enough to hit anything too major. A couple stitches are in it. You’ll be completely fine within a few weeks.”

“Go to sleep”, she said, and her tone softened as she tucked the blanket a little tighter around him. 

Stiles was exhausted enough to obey. He didn’t have time to dwell on any of the day’s events before he was pulled back down into unconsciousness by his father’s continued stroking of his hair.  
\-----  
Going home was nice at first. His dad took a couple days off to be with him. Stiles spent those days pleasantly numb and pain free. John would crush his pills into applesauce in the mornings, and Stiles would spend the rest of the day drowsily watching TV, safe in the knowledge that his father was nearby. 

Whatever pain meds they sent home worked well. When he was awake he felt floaty and almost content. They knocked him out enough that he didn’t have nightmares at all. Which was good because screaming would be murder on his throat. He could manage whispers fairly well, but nothing any louder.

No one came and visited, not that Stiles expected them too. The pack probably didn’t even know anything had happened, and that was okay. Debbie did send homemade chocolate pudding thought. It was delicious. 

John had to go back to work sooner than he planned. There had been a string of cattle mutilations, of all things, and the department had no leads. The ranchers were up in arms. John clearly felt awful leaving his kid at home, especially while he was hurt. He came home at lunch and texted hourly and if Stiles didn’t answer back, he called immediately. 

Stiles didn’t really mind being left alone. He was still sleeping a lot and when he was awake, he was so drugged out he was basically a zombie. Plus, his dad kept looking at his bruises when he though Stiles wasn’t looking and it was getting on Stiles nerves. It’s not like he had gotten them on purpose. 

But man, being alone at the house was boring. When he was awake, he worked ahead on his online science class. He emailed his language professor and explained his problem with being able to speak. His teacher said he could miss a couple classes, if he wrote a paper in Polish about the history of the language. That would be a challenge. Stiles spoke Polish well, even after all these years, but had never really learned to read or write it. 

Stiles was ready to go back to work by the time Monday rolled around. He was off the good pain pills, so he wasn’t really sleeping. He just hurt, all the time, and there was nothing to distract him but homework. His dad wouldn’t let him go back to work. There was an investigation underway and he couldn’t come back until it was over. 

Stiles was irritated about that for about a day. Until he went to the bank to cash the paycheck his dad had bought home for him and literally every person there stared at him and the rather vivid bruises and the nice long line of stitches that were not healing half as fast as Stiles wanted. After that, he was pretty alright with staying at home, even if it was super boring. 

He probably would have stayed home until he healed completely or his dad made him go back to work, except they ran out of food.

Well, he ran out of food. His dad still had plenty of things he could eat. Stiles was on a soft food diet and it was rather limited. He was out of ice cream and applesauce. It was practically an emergency. He didn’t want to bug his dad to go shopping for him with the Sheriff being so busy at work, so he grit his teeth and braced himself for the stares.

He decided to go early the next day, like 5:00 am because that’s when the grocery store opened, and also, there wouldn’t be many people there at the buttcrack of dawn. He made a list so he wouldn’t end up wandering the store, because his recent injuries had somehow made him even more spacey. 

Stiles didn’t ask if he could drive the jeep. Technically he had been medically cleared as soon as he finished his pain pills, but he dad hadn’t given him the keys back, so he just took them from the ‘hiding spot’ in John’s office. 

Stiles was right, the store was almost empty this early. There was literally two other cars in the parking lot. A beat up old station wagon that had to belong to old man or something, and a nice looking black SUV. Dang, that was a sweet ride. Tinted windows and big tires for off road driving. Not that he would ever abandon his jeep. He gave her an affectionate pat as he jumped out and walked into the store. 

Stiles made quick work of his short list. He was almost out of store when he heard a familiar grumpy voice call out. 

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, knowing and not caring at all that the werewolf could hear. He didn’t want to see anyone him like this. He didn’t stop or acknowledge the call and just continued to walk determinedly toward the check out. 

Derek caught up to him easily, because again, werewolf. He grabbed Stiles arm, stopping him.

Stiles whirled around, glaring at him. He wanted to yell, to tell Derek to leave him alone like everyone else did, but anything louder than a quiet inside voice hurt. So he settled for glaring.

Derek didn’t speak and he didn’t let go. He just stared at his neck. Like full on wide eyed horrified staring which was super weird. Seriously, Derek had once had a pole clear through his back, and now some bruises bothered him, bad bruises admittedly, but still.

“What?” Stiles snapped when the werewolf didn’t speak, and wished he had worn his hoddie. Then he could have pulled his hood up to hide.

Derek’s face dropped to a neutral expression but he didn’t let go. If anything, he gripped Stiles’ arm a little tighter. “Nothing. The pack just said you had gotten hurt. I wanted to see if you were okay. I didn’t think it was like this.”

The pack had known about the attack? Melissa had probably told Scott. So much for patient privacy. But no one came over. Even though they knew. No one called or even texted.  
Stiles was suddenly furious. He had done everything right, given everyone space to recover from the trauma of the possession, and still no one cared about him. It wasn’t fair. 

Derek reached out with his free hand and gently brushed against his throat, so damn carefully that it didn’t even hurt and Stiles skin buzzed. Derek’s face was soft and open as his fingers ghosted over the stitches. For a half of a second, he was afraid that Derek, the grumpy ass, emotionally constipated werewolf actually cared. 

It broke him.

“Don’t’ you dare asshole.” Stiles hissed, throwing off Derek’s touch and stepping back. 

“Don’t what?” Derek asked carefully, and his calmness pissed Stiles off even more.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t pretend like you care. Just leave me alone. Run back and tell the pack that the weak skinny human is still alive. Like they even care.” Stiles wanted to yell so badly but he settled for shoving Derek with both hands.

Derek took a step back, but he wasn’t angry. Stiles wanted him angry. He wanted to cause some pain.

“Go back to the pack that left me. I needed them, and no one was there. What do they think they will do to you? You think they care about you? They’re not your family. They don’t even like you. Go back to Scott, the true alpha, the alpha you could never be. He’s not Laura, you know.” Stile taunted cruelly.

Stiles hit a nerve, just like he knew he would. Derek growled softly, and his nails slowly lengthened. 

Stiles scoffed. “That’s right. Let the wolf in. Show me.”

It didn’t last for more than a moment. Anyone watching them fight wouldn’t have seen it. Derek shook his head and the claws sunk back in. “I’m not that easy anymore.” he said.

“Bitch” Stiles spat out as he stormed out the door, leaving his cart.  
\-----  
Stiles was an asshole. He knew he had messed up big time before he was even halfway home. He had been terrible to Derek when he hadn’t deserved it. Derek could be a jerk, but it wasn’t his fault that the pack didn’t want Stiles. It was Stiles’ own fault and he shouldn’t have taken a jab at Derek’s family like that. That was crossing a line. 

Stiles felt bad all day. He tried texting Derek to apologize, but the messages came back as undelivered. So, either Derek had blocked him, or gotten a new number. Consider Stiles was fairly sure Derek didn’t know how to block people he figured the wolf had just gotten a new phone. 

He aggressively cleaned the house to try to distract himself, top to bottom until it was so clean surgery could have been performed on the bathroom floor. He completely finished up all the work for his science class and took his final. He sent his language professor his completed paper then ordered himself a couple classic novels in Polish online with overnight shipping, just to practice reading in the language. 

By 2:00pm he was sore and his neck hurt like someone was stabbing him but he still didn’t feel better. He just needed to talk to Derek, to apologize.

Also he still didn’t have any food he could eat. He made some plain pasta, even though it was too late for lunch and too early for supper. It sucked and scratched his throat as he swallowed. Plus he hated eating alone.

That gave him an idea. Of course, it depended on if Derek still lived in the loft, but Stile was betting that he still did. He was a creature of habit. He headed out the door, determined not to screw this up.  
\-----  
Five hours and a mildly burnt finger later, Stiles stood outside the loft. His hands were full, so he knocked with his elbow. If he was here, Derek would hear. Hell, he probably already knew Stiles was there, since he could hear heartbeats and all.

Stiles was just about to give up when the door finally opened. Derek stood there, wearing soft pants and a t-shirt and Jesus, he was even more in shape, how was that possible. And his facial hair was flawless. The lines were perfect. Never mind, not important. Focus. 

Derek was glaring his extra angry glare, which, although expected, was still unsettling. All the well thought up apologies vanished from Stiles’ head. 

“I made apology cookies.” Stiles blurted out, holding out the pan. “They’re just like normal cookies, only I made them because I felt bad.”

Derek’s expression didn’t change. 

“I’m sorry. I was a dick. I never should have said any of that. It’s just, you touched my neck. And the things you said about the pack knowing. They suck. They all suck so much. I was angry at them, I am angry at them, so I took it out on you. Since you kinda are pack. But it still wasn’t fair. Or nice. So, I’m sorry.” Stiles was rambling and his voice kept breaking but he couldn’t shut up. 

Derek still didn’t say anything. This was the worst. 

“I’m just gunna go” Stiles said. He laid then cookies down on the hallway floor. “Those are yours even if you don’t want them.”

Derek picked them up, turned around, and when inside. He didn’t shut the door. 

Stiles hesitated in the hall, unsure. 

“Come in if you’re going to.” Derek barked and Stiles hurried to obey.

Derek got out some plates and put a cookie on each. He took a bite and then turned to the fridge.

“Want some milk?” he asked.

Stiles nodded.

They ate in silence standing at the counter. Stiles had to break his cookie into tiny pieces and soak them in milk before he could eat and Derek finished four before he finished one. He must have liked them.

“They’re mud pie cookies.” Stiles said as he finished up. This was awkward. He had forgotten how intense it was to spend time with Derek one on one. The guy just watched him, like he knew exactly what Stiles was thinking. He should go. “Debbie gave me the recipe. I knew you liked chocolate.”

Derek nodded looking marginally less grouchy after the snack. “They were good. Who’s Debbie?”

Stiles grinned. “My new best friend. A, like, 70 year old receptionist who will never quit her job at the Sheriff’s department. She’s the best. She likes Marvel and Star Wars.”  
Derek raised his eyebrows but was kind enough not to comment on how pathetic that was. 

Stiles fidgeted, uncomfortable. “I.” Stiles sighed. “I should go. I just wanted to say I was sorry. I tried to text, but I guess I don’t have a good number.”

Derek nodded again and finally broke eye contact to stare at a scuff on the floor. “I shouldn’t have touched your neck like that. Just because you’re not a wolf doesn’t mean that’s okay. And I know about being angry.”

Stiles raised his hand to the bruises without thinking. It suddenly hit him that Derek might know something about what had happened to him, what the place with the forest was. He knew about supernatural things. Even if he didn’t, maybe he had a book somewhere that explained it. Stiles had dropped all of his off on Lydia’s doorstep months ago, thinking he would never need them again. 

If it even was supernatural. If it wasn’t and he was just going crazy, well, it was okay if Derek knew that too. As long as his dad didn’t. No one else would care.

Stiles shook his head to bring himself out of his own thoughts. Derek was hovering, closer than he had been moments before and Stiles flinched in spite of himself. Derek wasn’t touching, but he looked concerned. 

Stiles realized he had been quiet for a long time, staring out at nothing. Dear God, Derek looked worried. Actually worried. None of this made sense, the fierce, ex-alpha, born werewolf with anger issues wasn’t supposed to look like that, not while looking at Stiles. Ever. 

“It’s okay. I guess we just both suck today.” Stiles replied. He wasn’t going to tell him about any of it. He didn’t want to see any more concerned faces looking at him. Not even Derek’s. He left without saying goodbye.  
\-----  
Stiles felt weird the whole next day after going to see Derek. He hadn’t ever spent much him alone with the older man unless they were in a fight to the death against evil or something. He had always mostly hung out with Scott when everything was calm. But, Derek seemed decent. Granted, he was quiet and glared a lot. But, that wasn’t a bad thing. Stiles liked the quiet now days. 

Plus, he let him apologize, which was more than anyone else had done. Maybe even accepted it. It was hard to tell with the wolf. He hadn’t kicked him out or even snarled at him, so he probably accepted it. 

Maybe Derek was a little lonely. He had gotten pretty upset when Stiles was bringing up how the pack was going to leave him. And no one else had been at the loft, not for a while. There weren’t any personal effects there, no left behind jackets or the piles of food that tended to follow the pack. Not like there used to be. Maybe Derek was seeing ghosts a little bit too. 

There was one way to find out. 

The next afternoon, after he knew Derek was off work because Stiles was a total creeper, Stiles was headed back to the loft, armed with gummy worms and the newest Marvel movie.

He knocked, and this time the door opened almost immediately.

“I brought a movie.” Stiles said, pushing past Derek “and snacks.”

Derek looked bewildered, then confused as Stiles put the movie in and then sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. 

Stiles face fell just a little as Derek continued to stand. “Do you not want to watch? I can go.”

“No, we can watch it. If you want.” Derek took a seat on the other side of the couch. He wasn’t sprawled out comfortably like Stiles was. He sat stiffly, like he was the visitor, hands tightened into fist and eyes straight ahead watching the screen. 

The movie was pretty good. Stiles had watched it last week, but he had been drugged up to the gills, so he missed a lot of the plot. Derek stayed uptight for the first half but by the time the heroes were in their final fight, he was slouched over, transfixed on the screen. 

The credits rolled. Stiles didn’t want to switch it off until the bonus scene played, plus Derek’s couch was supper cozy, so he asked “Did you like it?”

Derek shrugged. “It was alright.”

“You seemed pretty into it.”

Derek signed. “I like it more than some. I just don’t really like movies.”

Stiles flailed his arms as he sat up. “You don’t like movies. Dude, everyone like movies! I bet you don’t watch TV either.”

Derek shrugged again. “I used to watch them a lot in New York. There wasn’t a lot else for us to do. Now, I don’t really like them.”

“Do you like video games?”

“No.”

“Board games?”

“No.”

“You can’t really get drunk so you probably don’t like to party.”

“No.”

“What do you like?” 

“I don’t know!” Derek shouted. He was looked more than a little annoyed now, but Stiles wasn’t backing down.

“Dude, it’s not that hard. Lots of things are fun. I like to read trashy fantasy novels and I devour comic books. I like watching movies and playing video games. I have been known to binge watch entire seasons of TV shows in one day when they are awesome enough. I like to play lacrosse and enjoy cooking for my dad. I recently took up jogging and its fun. And I very recently learned how to bake mud pie cookies. See, there are lots of thing to do.”

“I like running.” Derek said, looking at the floor.

“See! That’s great. We can get you some nice shoes and those cute little short runner’s shorts and let’s get started.” Stiles grabbed his phone to make a list of things they would need. They were totally doing this.

“I already run. Barefoot. In whatever clothes I want. By myself at the preserve. You couldn’t keep up.”

Stiles huffed, annoyed he had forgotten that he wasn’t actually a part of Derek’s life. “Yea. Werewolf, I forgot.”

The bonus scene played, totally worth the wait, and then Stiles got up to take the movie out. He should get home before his dad freaked out. “Thanks for letting me borrow your TV I guess. I would say let’s do it again, but you’re a little weirdo who doesn’t like movies so, see you when I see you.”

Derek stood as well. His face was tight and his arms were crossed firmly across his chest. He seemed to be having some sort of internal battle. “I want to do something else for fun.” he finally spit out, face slightly red. 

Stiles felt the blood rush to his face as well. “Derek, if you’re trying to hook up with me, it’s really not a good idea. Not that anyone wouldn’t be lucky to have, well all of you and I’m not saying I never wanted you , but I’m a little messed up and its”

Derek leaped over the coffee table and literally put his hand over Stiles mouth, cutting him of mid-sentence.

“No” he growled. “I meant, I want a hobby. Something to do for fun. I want you to find me one.”

Stiles grinned around the large hand over his mouth and licked Derek’s palm. Derek let go and blushed even harder.

“That we can do.”  
\-----  
It was harder than it sounded to find Derek a hobby. He was strong, yeah and liked running, but didn’t particularly enjoy sports, not that Stiles let that stop him from trying to find them one to play together. Stiles just felt like someone as ripped as Derek would want the excitement of playing a sport, not playing a video game or painting or something. 

It started out badly. They tried to play lacrosse first, mostly because Stiles wanted to, but Derek broke the stick on accident the first time they went out to the park. Those things were expensive and Derek looked not just angry at himself, but sad as well as he handed the pieces of the stick back to Stiles

“I’m sorry for digging up your sister.” The apology jumped out of Stiles mouth even though, damn it this was not the time for this. He had felt bad about it for a long time and it was one of the things he had worried about when he thought he couldn’t talk. He thought he might never be able to say sorry and now Derek was right here looking so unhappy already- he just couldn’t wait. 

Derek’s face changed in a way Stiles couldn’t quite understand while Stiles continued to stammer out his apology. He didn’t just look sad, he looked lost, and somehow like he was yearning. His hands twitched as he eyes flashed blue for a millisecond. 

Stiles thought for sure the werewolf would storm off and tell him he never wanted to see him again and he felt tears well up in his eyes. 

But Derek didn’t. Instead, he just said “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” and stalked back to the jeep.

Stiles drove them back to the loft in silence, thinking the whole time about how he would probably never see Derek again. The thought made him more sad than he thought it would and then he felt guilty because he knew the werewolf could smell the sad and it was probably bothering him. 

But, when Stiles stopped the car, Derek clapped him on the back and said, “See you tomorrow.” like nothing had changed between them. 

Stiles felt something that reminded his of happiness in his chest as he drove away and that night for the first time in a long time, he slept un-drugged without nightmare.  
\----  
Stiles kept trying to find them something physical to do. Derek had played basketball in high school, but when completely white when Stiles suggested a little one on one and Stiles didn’t push the issue. 

Derek liked baseball and so did Stiles for that matter, but two people aren’t really enough to play. Neither one of them suggested inviting more of the pack to play. There were a couple intramural teams that played at the park, but the sign-ups were way earlier in the spring. 

“There’s always next year. We’ll get you signed up earlier” Stiles slung his arm over Derek shoulder as they walked away from the ball field and tried not to act like touching him was a big deal. Derek had been careful touching him ever since the freak out at the store, but Stiles knew how much werewolves lived for contact, so he tried to initiate it when he felt like he could handle it. 

They were almost the same height now and, man, that was weird. Derek had always seemed so much bigger before. Derek was larger, more muscular but Stiles was slowly getting stronger from the jogging and the time spent with Derek outside and he didn’t feel quite so small. “And we can always go to games. There is a good minor league team not far from Beacon Hills.” 

Tennis wasn’t their sport. Stile kept tripping and missing the ball and then Derek got pissy when Stiles threw a tennis ball and told him to go fetch. 

Disk golf was a mess. Something about the way the disks flew triggered something for Stiles and he ended up spaced out, staring at nothing until a mildly panicking Derek put his phone up to his ear. His father was on the other end, and John calmly talked him back. Stiles actually didn’t feel too bad considering and wanted to keep playing but Derek threw the disks in the trash with a snarl. 

Swimming was out; Derek apparently didn’t do swimming suits no matter how much Stiles tried to convince him that it would be worth it to see the hot lifeguards. 

When Derek shot the third golf ball out of the mini golf course then broke the club over his knee with a dangerous growl, Stile officially gave up. Whatever this hobby was going to be, it wasn’t going to be even slightly sports related.  
\-----  
They tried the arts next.

They went to a paint party, the ones where the instructor already had an outline and all they had to do is fill it in. Stile whispered to Derek the whole time, keeping a running commentary of how all the single ladies were watching Derek more than their canvases. Unfortunately, Stiles talked with his hands, and by the time it was over, Derek’s face was covered in little specks of paint. Stiles laughed so hard he fell out of his chair and knocked over both their paintings when he noticed. Derek complained the smell of paint hurt his nose, as he wiped his face off. They didn’t go back, even though the instructor gave Derek a free private lesson for his “troubles”.

Derek did like to read, but it was such a boring hobby and not one for two people. They did sometimes spent evenings reading together, sometimes in at Derek’s right by the giant windows and sometimes on the roof of Stiles house because he felt better where he could see the sky. Inevitable, Stiles would get restless, though in all fairness, it wasn’t intentional. He would tap his foot or pop his gum or even hum without even noticing and Derek would huff, slam his book shut, and storm away to “Find some quiet, damn it.”

Stiles was into loud music and loved concerts. Derek less so but he was willing to give it a try, especially since Stiles already bought the tickets. They drove a couple hours for an outdoor music festival that Stiles had been raving about, planning on camping out at the festival. 

Unfortunately, they didn’t even make it through the first band before Stiles freaked the fuck out over being trapped by all the bodies in the crowd. Derek had to physically pull him upright and drag him out as he yelled at the assholes that stared. 

“Just breathe.” Derek said, over and over again, but not touching, he never touched, while Stiles sat on the ground of the parking lot, shaking and reliving something terrible “Breathe.”

Derek had to drive the jeep home because even after the panic attach was over, Stiles was way too out of it. His heartbeat kept racing and even though the evening was cool, Stiles wouldn’t let him role up the windows. 

Derek dropped the jeep and Stiles off at his house, planning on walking home. John met them in the drive and helped a still shaking Stiles into the house, giving Derek a deep nod and a knowing look.

Two days later, Stiles was trying to get Derek to take up an instrument, mostly because Stiles thought it was cool, but he never had the patience. 

“All the cool kids play guitar, Derek.” Stiles whined as he looked around the music shop at the wall of guitars.

Derek just lifted his eyebrow, arms crossed and leaning against the wall.

“Okay, point taken, you are literally already the coolest guy ever. How about something classical? Girls dig the serous musicians too. Piano, or violin maybe?”

“Laura played piano. So did my mom” Derek said, and that was the end of that.  
\------  
The bruises had almost faded and the stitches were out by the time Stiles laid on Derek’s couch, idly scrolling on his phone, completely out of ideas.

“Dude, I’m out of ideas. Unless you want to collect stamps or clowns. I guess you’re just one of those guys who just doesn’t enjoy his life.”

Derek just grunted, not looking up from his book.

“I’m hungry. Let’s order food. Pizza, no, Chinese.” Stiles said. He had been eating more lately, mostly because Derek complained when Stiles ordered food then didn’t finish it, or worse just skipped meals. 

“Or,” Derek said slowly, “We could try cooking.”  
\----  
Derek wasn’t good at cooking either. He confused teaspoons and tablespoons. He under cooked potatoes and pasta consistently and didn’t understand why you couldn’t just turn up the oven so the pizza would cook faster. There was a reason he had been living on microwave meals and takeout.

Stiles did damage control when he could, but honestly, his grasp on the science of cooking wasn’t the best. Cooking with Derek was complicated, more than he had noticed when cooking for his dad, because Derek kept picking the most complicated meals ever. Go big or go home, Stiles guessed. 

The difference between this and every other hobby that Derek tried was that he liked it. They would completely ruin a meal, and Derek would immediately start talking about what they could make next time. He was more animated about food than anything else they had ever talked about. 

When Stiles asked about it as they were at the grocery story looking for something called quinoa that Derek insisted Stiles would like, Derek said “Meals were important growing up. They brought us together. Plus, my mom was an amazing cook. I want to be too.” 

Stiles knew how precious Derek’s memories of his family were to him. He was touched that Derek would share any of them with him and doubled his efforts to make this hobby stick.  
\-----  
They didn’t get to cook every night. They didn’t even hang out every day anymore. Stiles had gone back to work and some days was just too tired, or still too depressed, though he never admitted to Derek that he was. If Derek could smell it, he was polite enough not to say anything. 

Derek had to be at work early and lately had seemed more tired than usual. Some days he just didn’t want to stay up late and so Stiles didn’t come over. Because it always seemed like if Stiles came over, he stayed for a while, cooking yes, but then after, reading or watching some show that he insisted Derek needed to see. 

So, their new hobby was pretty much limited to the weekends, which Derek had off. On Saturdays they shopped together and ran whatever other errands Derek needed done. On Sundays they cooked a bunch of meals then vegged out on the couch. 

It was on the first of these Saturdays that Stiles found out Derek had trained the Cameo for a nice black SUV. 

“What? Why?” was all Stiles could manage to say when he found out. Derek had insisted on driving, saying that he felt bad putting miles on the poor jeep and instead of the Cameo this monstrosity was sitting there. 

“It was better for the pack. More practical for everyone to ride in and it’s nearly as fast. Plus this one had bullet proof windows.”

Stiles figured he was right, but he kind of missed the sexy sports car. Derek looked damn good driving it. Until he realized the SUV had heated seats.  
\----  
The realization hit Stiles all of a sudden one evening. They were making cheese enchiladas as Stiles still couldn’t stomach meat and had proven it to Derek once when he had tried to make hamburgers after they had had a weird moment in the kitchen that ended with Derek bleeding and Stiles puking. Derek had very successfully made some yummy Mexican rice. He was grinning slightly as he dished it out and Stiles had this feeling of contentment come over him as he watched. 

He liked Derek. Not, liked like he wanted to bone him, but mostly just was glad he got to hang out with him. Because, turns out, Derek was awesome. 

He hadn’t ever noticed. The whole nearly dying all the time had distracted him. During all of it, Derek had always seemed distant, aggressive, and angry. But now, after listening to Derek talk about what his family used to do in his sad lost little voice, Stiles knew the distance was from having so many people he loved leave him. He didn’t trust anyone, not that Stiles blamed him, and so he pushed everyone away, destructively.

Stiles suspected Derek hadn’t ever spent a lot of time with humans, and that why he had always seemed overly aggressive, almost cruel to Stiles. His scale of normal interactions was drastically different. That why he thought things like breaking his packs bones was training, not torture. The poor guy. 

But, he had been making a lot of effort lately to be kind. He didn’t touch Stiles at all anymore, not unless it absolutely necessary and even then it was always carefully, like he knew how often he had hurt Stiles before. He didn’t eat meat if Stiles was over, even though Stiles knew wolves need more protein than humans. He even made it a point to make noise when he moved, even though he didn’t have to, so he didn’t startle Stiles.

And he didn’t seem so angry anymore. Yeah, Derek basically had the male version of a resting bitch face, but the underlying rage that used to almost radiate from his had faded. He gave Stiles this soft smile sometimes, not the cold one he gave strangers or that flirty one he gave people he needed something from. His special smile melted Stiles’ heart.

Hell he even laughed once in a while, like when they had been watching a movie and Stiles had gotten so into it that he took a bite of a pencil, instead of the Twizzler he thought it was. Stiles didn’t even mind the gross wooden taste because Derek had an amazing laugh. He wanted to hear it all the time.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Derek asked, as he held out a plate.

“Nothing.” Stiles replied. He didn’t want to tell Derek about how his heart fluttered when the wolf looked at him. He didn’t want to scare him away. He finally had a friend again, he wasn’t going to ruin it. “I’m just glad we’re friends. We are friends right?”

Derek face fell and he gave Stiles an almost dejected look and waited a full minute before answering. “Yes Stiles. We’re friends.”

Stiles hesitated, unsure of why Derek looked upset.

“It’s fine.” Derek gave him that soft smile Stiles loved and brushed against Stiles’ hand with his own. “We’re friends and I’m glad to. Now eat your food. I know you skipped lunch.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not my favorite chapter and I considered not even including it. I did anyway but it can probably be skipped without missing any of the plot.

Derek knew there was trouble almost as soon as he got back to Beacon Hills. He had missed the pack. He missed Scott’s quiet leadership, Isaac’s careful observations and loyalty. He missed Lydia’s genius and even Stiles just being Stiles. But, something was off. 

When he came back, he expected Stiles to be the first one at his apartment, asking questions, demanding to know where he had been and what he had been doing. He hadn’t been. In fact, Derek didn’t hear from any of the pack until Scott texted him to say they were running at the preserve the next full moon.

When he showed up at the edge of the woods, Derek was glad to see that Isaac had stayed in town instead of going to France. Apparently he had moved into the McCall house permanently and he looked and smelled content. Ethan had joined the pack as a beta and was actually a good guy, loyal to Scott and resilient. Lydia, who still smelled depressed even though she didn’t look it, and the new girl Kira were there too. Kira smelled like fire and it made Derek nervous, but she was so nice it was hard to mind. 

All in all, it made for a strong pack. Derek was hopeful that this was the start of something good.

Until he asked “Where’s Stiles?” It clearly wasn’t a wolf only night so he should have been here by now “Did the jeep break down again?”

Lydia gasped and her scent turned furious as she took a step toward him but Kira grabbed her hand, stopping her. Isaac whined like a hit pup and Ethan just looked down, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

There was a loud snap and Derek whirled around, shifting to beta as he went, to find Scott, eyes red and claws out, holding a completely crushed cell phone.

“Don’t. Don’t talk about him.” Scott growled out, before he ran off into the woods, howling for his beta’s to follow him. Derek followed too.   
\----  
It didn’t take long to figure out that Stiles’ wasn’t part of the pack anymore. What was less clear was if Scott kicked him out or if Stiles just left. Kira, bless her heart, explained it to Derek after the run was over and the beta’s were limping out of the forest, completely exhausted. Scott had run them hard and no one had had much fun. It reminded Derek of the full moons when he had been alpha. 

“Scott clearly misses Stiles, and he is moping all the time which sucks for us. But his wolf kinda hates him for killing his ‘mate’, even though Allison really wasn’t anymore.” she said quietly as she walked with him back to his SUV. “He’s having trouble ignoring the wolf.”

Derek got that. The wolf’s mind wasn’t always as logical as the human mind. That was why you had to keep it in control. He thought Scott could. Apparently not, anymore. 

“Lydia’s having a tough time too. She gets this overwhelming feeling of death anytime Stiles is close, some sort of echo from that night. It makes it hard”. Kira gave Derek a soft smile. “I thought you might need to know, since you’re staying. You’re staying, right?”

Derek nodded and Kira darted in close and gave him a quick hug. Derek stiffened, unused to anyone touching him. Ever. 

“I’m glad.” Kira said then, noticing his discomfort flushed red and started stammering. “Sorry, I didn’t mean too, I should just. Bye”

Derek got why Scott like her. 

Lydia texted him the next day, wanting to know what he knew about witches. Derek wouldn’t tell her until she explained how she could let the pack kick Stiles out. They had been close, and getting closer as he left. Derek figured they would be a couple soon and instead, she had abandoned him. 

“I don’t hate him.” she told Derek . “But being near him is like always having a scream building in my throat. It’s exhausting and painful. I just needed some space.”

Losing your pack was more painful, Derek knew that, but he didn’t say it. It wasn’t his place.

The worst part was, the pack never told Stiles any of it. But he wasn’t stupid, far from it, and he could tell something was off. So he just stopped trying. He stopped coming to meetings, stopped hanging out with them at school, stopped texting. Scott had told Stiles it was for the best, and the alpha had spoken- Stiles was out of the pack. 

The change had been hard on the pack. Scott told them not to be mean to Stiles, but that they couldn’t be friendly either. They honestly weren’t as happy like this, and didn’t really hang out as a pack anymore. They didn’t work as well together either but they were managing. It helped a lot that the constant attacks on the territory had stopped.

None of it seemed fair to Derek, but he knew better than anyone that life wasn’t fair. He and Stiles had never been close, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt the teenager if Derek didn’t talk to him. The human probably wouldn’t even notice. 

Derek ignored the twist in his gut every time he thought about all of it, and got back to his old life in Beacon Hills. He cleaned up his dusty loft and helped Scott scent mark the pack’s territory by running the boundaries, something that Scott wasn’t doing a very good job of. And he needed to be. It was the best way to keep other wolves, and other things, out of the territory. 

He even got a job working at the stupid coffee shop, when Lydia asked him to. She didn’t trust the owners, the two witches, no matter what Scott said. The distension in the pack worried Derek, but he still did as she asked. 

He didn’t think about Stiles again. He really didn’t. That’s why it didn’t make any sense that when Derek saw Stiles in the store, spacey as hell and smelling like pain, his wolf absolutely howled. His wolf snarled that his pack mate was in trouble and Derek couldn’t leave the human alone not matter what Scott might think. 

But, Stiles brushed off Derek with a complete lie of “I’m fine” and Derek didn’t push it. He knew when he wasn’t wanted. He told his wolf to shut up and left without a backwards glance. 

Derek got on with his life, tedious and lonely as it was. None of the pack ever came over or invited him out with them. The coffee shop was boring but at least it had good books. The witches didn’t seem to be doing anything dangerous and he asked Lydia if he could quit. She wouldn’t let him and Derek was just scared enough of the redhead not to go against her.

He did find a therapist in Beacon Hills. Peter had sarcastically told him he needed one as Peter himself ran out of town, but it wasn’t until he was visiting Cora in South America that he admitted it to himself. He had wolfed out in his sleep without even know it, trapped in a nightmare of being burned alive by Kate. When Cora had woken him up, he had clawed her up badly. She healed almost immediately of course, but it was the push he needed to get help. Granted, he couldn’t tell the therapist everything, but it was better than nothing and it was slowly working. The anger and guilt he had felt for so long was slowly fading the more he worked on himself. 

Derek made up with Isaac, at his therapist suggestion. He had always felt bad for how he had treated the kid when he had been alpha. Isaac forgave him without hesitation and Derek felt a little better. He suspected that the younger beta knew how out his element he had been. Not that it was an excuse. 

Isaac started to come over to the loft to hangout sometimes, when Derek would buy the pizza. He fixed the TV that Derek didn’t know was broken, and they just hung out on the couch, not really talking, but just being together. Other than Lydia texting him for updates on the witches, that was the only pack interaction he had, besides the mandatory monthly full moon runs. 

That was why Derek had been glad when Stiles started coming in for coffee, even though he knew Scott wouldn’t like it. The kid still looked thin and smelled just a little off, but not like the sour smell of pain of before. He smelled like citrus and the woods all wrapped up in vanilla. It was intoxicating. 

Their conversations were somewhat forced and it was a little weird. Still, anytime Stiles would walk through the door and see Derek, his face would light up, like he couldn’t believe Derek was still there. His visits quickly and sadly became the highlight of Derek’s weeks.

Derek didn’t understand how Stiles had gotten under his skin like he had. Sure, he had always liked the kid, for the most part. He and Scott seemed to be a packaged deal when Derek first meet them, so disliking him wouldn’t have done much good.

Besides, even though Stiles was loud and annoying and always tagging along even when it wasn’t good for him, he had good ideas and caught onto patterns faster than anyone else and was fiercely loyal, plus he was cute in the whole ‘I don’t know I’m cute’, way. 

Not that Derek thought of him that way.

Maybe it was the sheer relief on Stiles’ face when he saw Derek that made his wolf feel so protective. Maybe it was because he smelled so helpless. Either way, within a few weeks, every time the kid walked in, his wolf snarled at him to take him home and fix whatever made him smell so sad.

Derek tamped down his wolf every time, but he couldn’t silence it. Not completely.   
\-----  
He didn’t hear about the incident at the jail until a couple days after it happened. Isaac mentioned it causally when he and Ethan had come over for a pizza night. Derek had his head in the fridge, grabbing drinks, when Ethan asked why Kira and Scott had been fighting this time. The lovebirds fought more than not recently and so Derek tuned out until he heard Stiles name. 

“It’s cause Scott said not to visit Stiles cause it wasn’t going to kill him. Kira told him he was being a dick and Scott stormed out.” Isaac said, reaching for another slice.

“What happened to Stiles?” Derek was careful to keep his face blank, even though he knew the sudden spike in his pulse wouldn’t go unnoticed by the other two.

“I guess Stiles almost got killed by some druggie in the jail. He was helping his dad and the guy just grabbed him. Strangled him. ” Isaac said it like it was no big deal. It was a big deal.

Derek’s eyes flashed electric blue and he growled, slamming his hands down on the counter. Isaac jumped and his scent filled with fear while Ethan growled softly. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I just…is he okay?” Derek focused on the counter where his claws were digging into the wood. He didn’t want to look at the teen and see fear or worse, disgust. He didn’t want to bully the kid into saying something he didn’t want to. He wasn’t the alpha, it wasn’t his place, but he needed to know. 

“It’s okay.” Isaac shrugged. The smell of fear had lessened but he still seemed tense when he continued on. “I asked Melissa just to be sure. He’ll be okay. Just some swelling and pain. I wanted to visit, but Scott commanded me not too. It’s hard to go against him sometimes, you know, with the alpha power.”

Derek just nodded, hating how Scott was abusing his powers when it came to Stiles. He hadn’t learned anything from Derek’s mistakes. 

Anyway, was Stiles fine that was the important part. Everything was fine.   
\----  
Everything was not fine. Stiles hadn’t been by the coffee shop that week and Derek was worried. He wanted so badly to just go to Stiles house but he couldn’t go against his alpha. So, he did what he always did when he was upset. 

He ran. Every day, before work. It meant he had to get up extra early, but he didn’t mind. He got to watch the sun rise over the trees and it calmed his ever pacing wolf. 

Then, when he swung by the store to grab a sports drink after his run, he caught a whiff of the now familiar scent of sadness, oranges, sandalwood, and vanilla.

It was bad and Derek knew he was staring at the mess that used to be the pack’s human. Stiles smelled like pain, even worse than before. It hurt Derek’s stomach just to smell him. He had awful bruises and Derek could tell from his face that it hurt to even swallow. Derek wanted to grab him and take away the pain. He reached out to gently track the dark stitches on his neck that were surrounded by god-awful bruises, and everything when to shit. 

Derek didn’t know what he said or what he did, but Stiles suddenly when from in pain to wanting to hurt, and hissed horrible awful things. Things Derek tried not to even think about. Derek felt the familiar rage build up and fought against his wolf not to lash out. He took a deep breath and held it in, but it he was thankful that Stiles stormed off when he did. Before Derek did something they would both regret. 

Derek spent the afternoon furious. He got sent home early from work for being too surly with the customers. He tried to burn off the anger with another run in the forest but somehow kept catching the combined scent of sandalwood, orange, vanilla, and sour pain that was Stiles even out there. He went back to apartment and aggressively worked out, until he his arms and legs were too rubbery to support him and he collapsed in bed.

His anger didn’t even make sense. He didn’t care what Stiles said. And he really didn’t care that he had been hurt and Derek wasn’t there. He wasn’t pack. Even though he was the only one who asked how he was doing, every week, and really seemed to care.

Derek had himself convinced he was better off without Stiles and that he was never talking to him again when Stiles had shown up with the damn cookies. Derek wanted to ignore him but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t ignore the hummingbird heart on the other side of the door and the smell of pure hope. When Stiles apologized, Derek forgave him completely without a thought about how it would affect the pack.  
\----  
That should have been the end of it. Derek should have gone back to ignoring him or at least only seeing him at work, like his alpha wanted. But Stiles showed back up and Derek liked it. It made his loft feel a little less empty. It felt more like pack than the werewolves he ran with only once a month.

He wanted more of it. He wanted Stiles all the time, he wanted to feel noticed and be a part of someone’s life, not just that guy who could be useful in an emergency. The wolf howled in contentment as he finally asked Stiles for help finding a stupid hobby that was really just an excuse to be with Stiles. 

The kid thought he was hitting on him because Derek's life was awful. It was the most embarrassed Derek had been a long time but he blushed at the thought nevertheless. Derek hated how the blood raced to his dick for the split second that he thought about holding the human close, holding him tight and kissing him and rubbing him until the smell of sadness was completely gone and he smelled like satisfaction and come, and Jesus, what was wrong with him. 

Derek defiantly should have sent him away them, ended the whole thing. But, instead they somehow ended up spending tons of time together while Stiles fruitlessly tried to find Derek a hobby that didn’t suck. 

And somehow, during all this, Derek, not just his wolf, started genuinely liking him, really liking him. 

Maybe it was because this new Stiles he hung out was different than the old one he had left. Well, not really different. He still smelled amazing and was still too smart for his own good. He was still sarcastic and flailed around more than anyone else Derek had met. He still cared about his friends more than anything. 

Just now, Derek got to be one of them. 

Stiles was quieter than before though. He still talked a lot, but he listened too, really listened, to what Derek said, on the rare occasions Derek opened his mouth. And Derek found himself talking more than he had in years, about his family, about his past, about himself. 

Stiles was also unsettling observant now. Like when they went to the music festival and Stiles automatically took them long way around the parking lot to avoid the bond fires that people were dancing around in the field. Or when Derek snarled at him about his sister and mother playing piano and how he didn’t want to have anything to do with the stupid classical music. Stiles didn’t even flinch. He drove them home in silence, not even turning on the radio. Stiles just got it.

Most importantly, he apologized for the one thing Derek had ever quite forgiven the teenagers for, the one thing that the kids should never have done, that they didn’t have to do, but did anyway. 

“Hey Derek?” he said out of the blue, as Derek offered him back the broken pieces of the lacrosse stick. He didn’t mean to break it, but he wasn’t going to say sorry. He had warned Stiles that he didn’t want to play sports and this is what happened when the kid didn’t listen. 

“I’m sorry for digging up your sister.”

Derek heart nearly stopped. He hadn’t thought about it in so long. He flinched, hard, then went completely still and took deep breathes, like the therapist said to do.

“I know you don’t like to talk about her and I won’t ever bring it up again. But, I never said sorry. It was terrible, even if I didn’t know her or you at the time. I wish I never had done it.”  
Stiles looked so sad, so broken after he said it, like it had been his sister. Derek smelled salt as he watched those amber eyes fill with tears as he wondered just how much guilt the teenager had been caring around, and for how long. 

"If you don't want to hang out anymore I understand." 

His emotions were whirling. He felt overwhelmed and tired all of a sudden but he didn't want to lose his friend over it. Derek took a deep breathe and then quietly muttered “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” 

It was such a little gesture, but it changed everything. Derek spent that whole night on the living room floor, looking at all the old pictures of his family he had salvaged from the ashes. He yelled, he cried, and when the sun rose, he felt better than he had for a long time. 

That was also what got him thinking about cooking. His mother had been an amazing cook and Laura was getting pretty good too, when she had been killed. He wanted to connect with them and this was the perfect way to do it. 

Cooking was how they showed love, showed pack, how they always had. Every night, his mother, then later Laura, had made a supper that the family, the pack, ate together. It was where they talked about their days, about their triumphs, like when Cora gotten a perfect score on her math test even though she was dyslexic, and their failures, like when Derek got suspended for fighting. Peter wasn’t crazy yet and would make them all laugh by telling the dirtiest jokes while Talia halfheartedly scolded. It was where they all felt safe. 

It had nothing to do with wanting to cook for Stiles.  
\-----  
Until it had. 

Derek knew Stiles wasn’t quite right, and it wasn’t all just because he had been kicked out of the pack. He smelled like depression, some days worse than others. Some days he reeked like medications, other days he smelled almost normal. Sometimes he forgot things, like what Derek needed at the store or where they parked. Other times he was so clever it hurt. He still had panic attacks and zoned out occasionally, getting lost somewhere far away, stuck in his own head. 

The first time Stiles had drifted away, eyes going blank and face slack, Derek had panicked, tried everything short of slapping the kid, then called John who talked his son back. John had explained, later after Stiles’ heart wasn’t threatening to beat its way out of his chest and his eyes weren’t so damn empty, that sometimes Stiles couldn’t tell what was real, that the only thing anyone could do was to talk him through it and stop him from hurting himself. 

Stiles had nightmares too, bad ones, that had him screaming awake every night. Derek could tell the nights they were bad, because he would show up the next day reeking of anxiety meds and depression. 

Stiles talked about the nightmares sometimes if Derek asked, how he saw himself trapped, unable to move, while he stabbed Allison over and over again. About how he begged his friends for help but no one would. About how he was still afraid he was going completely mad. 

Stiles wasn’t crazy though, Derek knew and he didn’t care what anyone else said. He was just damaged. And Derek knew about being damaged. 

John was worried, Derek could tell, but Derek wasn’t. He was determined. He wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to Stiles again.  
\----  
They had been hanging out for weeks and cooking for a few days when Stiles came in, grinning and shouting that he was finally going back to work. He looked great, eyes shining and cheeks red, and he danced around the kitchen, more hyper than Derek had since he had come back. He smelled like happiness as he twirled too fast, knocking a glass to the floor and smashing it. 

“Be careful.” Derek barked without any real anger and he bent down to pick up the pieces before Stiles could cut himself. 

Derek stood back up, hands full of glass, and in a moment of childish joy Stiles caught his face between his own large strong hands, laughing about how glad he was to be going back.

Derek stood stock still, heart beating too fast from the touch, unsure of what was happening but unwilling to move and stop it. He locked eyes with the boy in front of him and his stomach tightened apprehensively. 

He looked at Stiles all the time, cataloging the now faded bruises, the paleness of his skin compared to the day before, even the difference in the darkness of the marks beneath his eyes. 

But, he had never really seen him, not like this.

Stile was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. His amber eyes were shinning golden in the afternoon sun and his skin was bright. He was letting his hair grow out and it teased around his face. He was still smiling and Jesus, those lips. Those lips that smiled and laughed and made him feel alive again. 

For a wonderful, heart stopping, beautiful, horrific moment, Derek wanted to lean forward, to taste those lips, to pull them together and let his wolf have what he knew it had wanted for a long time now. For Stiles to know how important he was. For Stiles to know he was his and that everything was going to be alright. That Derek would protect him, would keep him safe.

Stiles pupils were blown wide and he licked his lips ever so lightly as he leaned forward. Suddenly he then he looked so young. 

“Derek.” Stiles breathed the name and Derek could feel his breathe sweet on his face. A jolt ran all the way through Derek’s body.

Derek flexed his hands reflexively and he smelled rather than felt the blood drip from the cuts made by the glass as he closed his eyes and moved forward to meet those wonderful lips.

“Shit, Derek” Derek must have flinched, must have done something, because Stiles had looked down and saw the blood. He let go, jumping back and grabbing a towel to stop the bleeding. 

Derek threw the glass in the trash and held up his already healed hands to Stiles, who was still holding out the towel, but looking a little too pale and he leaned heavily against the counter. 

“Go” Derek said, talking the towel to wipe off and gently pushing him towards the living room. His wolf snarled at him to get his pup back, to hold him and fix him, to bring back that moment, but Derek didn’t. “I’ll cook something, go sit down.”

Derek would never know what possessed him to make hamburgers. Probably because they were precooked and in his freezer and so were quick and easy and Stiles was sitting alone in the other room with his head in his hands, smelling sour and probably thinking way too much. And Derek wanted to feed his human, to fix the color in his face. 

But, he knew better; Stiles didn’t eat meat, he couldn’t eat meat. Derek just forgot.

Stiles didn’t say anything about the burgers as Derek brought him a plate in the living room, intending for them to just eat in front of the TV like Stiles like to do on his bad days. He even said it looked good and took a bite. He chewed once, before his face lost whatever color it had and he ran to the bathroom gagging. 

Derek didn’t have a lot of experience with human’s being sick. There had been humans in the pack, yeah, but none of them were his brothers or sisters. The only time werewolves threw up was if they were actively being poisoned, and sometimes not even then. 

The awful noises coming from the bathroom left him feeling helpless and he didn’t like it.

“Stiles?” he knocked on the door, wanting to come in, but not wanting to scare him, or worse, set off a panic attack.

“Go away.”

The toilet flushed, but Stiles didn’t come out and his heart was still racing. Derek was being rude, listening in on something so private, his mother would be ashamed, but there was no way he was leaving.

“Derek, I know you’re still out there. Go away and let me die in piece.” There was the sound of more retching and Derek came in anyway. He grabbed a wet washcloth a put on the back of Stiles’ neck while he cautiously rubbed small circles on his back. It’s what Peter used to do for his human son when he was ill. Hopefully it was comforting for all humans, not just children. 

Eventually, Stiles lifted his head. Ignoring the sour smell that still clung to Stiles, Derek pulled him in close beside him, and Stiles wrapped him own arms around the wolf. He was shaking and Derek wanted to get him up of the cold floor, to get him to the couch and wrap him in a blanket but Stiles didn’t seem to want to move. 

“I’m glad you’re my friend.” Stiles said, the words muffled by his head in Derek’s shirt. “You’re a really good friend.”

Derek knew Stiles didn’t mean to hurt him, that he couldn’t expect the human to feel the same about of protection and affection. Wolves felt things differently. Everything was always stronger, anger, revenge, love, it all felt differently. But it still hurt, because Derek wanted more. But Stiles didn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

Fridays quickly became Derek’s favorite days. On Friday’s Stiles didn’t work. He had class in the afternoon but that left them plenty of time to just hang out. And they did. 

Stiles came to work with Derek early in the mornings and read books in the corner, glancing up occasionally to smile shyly as at Derek as he worked, coming up to the counter to chat when there weren’t any customers. Derek’s bosses didn’t mind, seeing as they were never there, as long as he was quiet and didn’t get in the way.

Every Friday, after Stiles got done with class, Derek went over the Stilinski house for dinner. He wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but John was very good at getting people to do what he wanted. He and his son were alike in that way. John would grill out because Stiles could stand the smell as long as he wasn’t outside during it. Stiles would make the sides in the kitchen and Derek and John would grill, drink a beer, and talk about baseball. John would call him son and hold his hand on his shoulder. It made Derek feel empty and full at the same time. 

Of course, Fridays made for a long day for Derek, not that he minded if it meant spending more time with Stiles. Because it was getting hard to find as much time as he wanted with his human. His days were filling up with unpleasant tasks of the werewolf nature. 

Something felt off in the town, unsettled almost, so he had started running the perimeter of the preserve every morning before work and again after sunset, alone because Scott didn’t think it needed done that often. Then he ran by each pack member’s houses, just like he used to when he was alpha, just to be sure they were alright. 

After he ran the perimeter in the evenings, Derek stopped by Stiles’ house if he knew the Sheriff was working late. He never went in or told Stiles that he was there. That would start a fight with Stiles insisting he didn’t need a babysitter. He just listened to his hummingbird heart and made sure he was safe, that he was just sleeping however unsoundly. John had mentioned the incident with the bathtub and Derek was determined that it would never happen again. 

Isaac came over more often during the week just to hang out, bringing Ethan sometimes and Lydia occasionally. They would eat pizza and just hang out. They all seemed just a little lonely and Derek liked them being there. It filled the loft up with the smell of pack. 

The wolves could smell how often Stiles was there too but they never brought him up, whether because of Scott’s orders or as to not embarrass Derek. He knew they could smell the sheer want on him, but they were smart enough not to ask.

All in all, Derek was busier than he had ever been. It was good, according to his therapist, but a bad feeling itched in the back of his mind.

Something was going on in the woods. Something bad was going on there. Something was wrong. 

First, it was just a feeling, almost a scent, not of danger, but of uncertainly. It felt like someone was watching him all the time, someone he couldn’t see or smell. It made Derek feel itchy and unsettled. Nothing but spending time with Stiles made him feel calm again. 

Next came the vermin. The mice, the squirrels, the raccoons, and the opossums started showing up dead. Not one or two, but dozens every night. They were split open with guts hanging out but not eaten and Derek went from concerned to worried.

He told Scott, who told Lydia, who had apparently become the new researcher, to look into it. She didn’t find anything, though she was still looking. It wasn’t another were’. Derek would have smelled it. It didn’t seem to be any animal at all because nothing was being eaten and no one was being attacked. 

That left magic. They went to Deaton, who assured them that Nemeton was fine, that nothing had been messing with it. Derek, Isaac, Ethan and Scott started tailing the coffee shop witches, since they were the only known magic users in town. But they never did anything even slightly suspicious. After two weeks, the pack gave it up following them, though Derek continued to keep a close eye on both of them.  
\-----  
It was Friday and Derek was grateful. It meant Stiles was here at the shop and safe. Not that he wasn’t safe at home. The kid had dozens of protective charms and runes all over the house. Deaton had checked them and declared nothing evil could get in. Which was good because Stiles had taken down the mountain ash so Derek could come and go.

He was safe at the station too. Derek had personally told the Sheriff what was happening at the preserve and they had put out a couple discrete runes there, just to be safe. Plus, Stiles was no longer allowed near any inmates, no matter what. Still, Derek felt better when he could see his human. 

Stiles was working on his final project for his language class, a speech in Polish. The summer semester was almost over and then he would have a full month before his senior year started. Stiles had been really struggling with his speech and had been testing it on Derek. Derek loved to hear the language in his mouth, it took all he had not to kiss him. 

The bell tinkled and Derek signed, without turning around from the espresso machine he was clearing. He was tired, worn out of worrying, and done dealing with asshole customers. He relaxed slightly when he recognized Isaac and Ethan’s smells coming towards him. 

He wasn’t surprised they were here. The two wolves had been running patrols with in the city limits for him the past few days, just to see if anything was off. They came in afterwards to report in and grab a couple coffees on Derek, of course. 

He started making their drinks before he even turned around, in no hurry. If it was an emergency, if they had actually found something, they would have called. 

Ethan was standing patiently at the counter, Isaac a few feet behind, watching Stiles, who was nodding along to the music in his headphones as he scratched in his notebook and hadn’t noticed the other boys come in. 

Ethan took the drinks with a nod. He held one out to Isaac, shoving him slightly when the curly haired boy still didn’t look away from the human. 

“Anything?” Derek asked.

“Nothing new.” Ethan said, sipping his coffee. “We still can only find the scent of the two known witches. No sign of smell of any other Druids, Mages or Sorcerers. Lydia hasn’t found anything new either. I have a couple calls out to some contacts, but none of them know anything.” 

“I called Chris.” Isaac said as Derek blinked with surprise. He didn’t know the hunter was in contact with any of the pack. “He agreed it was magic. He says it’s hard to tell for sure what it could be, since he isn’t here to connect all the dots. He’s sending me a couple spells he thinks it could be though.”

“Did you tell Scott?” Derek asked. He was very aware that by sending the beta’s out on his own patrols, he was walking a thin line of mutiny. He didn’t need the alpha to think he was keeping anything from him. He didn’t want to challenge Scott. He just wanted, needed, to keep his pack safe. 

“Yeah. He didn’t really seem to know what to do about it. You know Scott, if you can’t bite it or talk to it, he doesn’t know what to do.” Isaac shrugged and Ethan rolled his eyes.

Derek nodded, familiar with the Alpha’s tendencies. “Tell Lydia and Kira. Bring the spells by the loft after you get them. Stay safe, stay together.”

The two wolves turned and walked away. Derek went back to cleaning, but looked up when he heard Isaac’s heart speed up. 

The younger wolf was standing by Stiles’ table, just looking, with his lips narrow and face tight. Derek growled softly, warning the other beta not to start anything. 

Isaac ignored Derek. His expression smoothed into its normal confident look as he grabbed a chair and sat, slamming his drink down just loud enough to be heard over the music.

Stiles jumped and ripped out his headphones.

“Holy Hell,” Stiles held a hand over his racing heart. “Isaac, what the fuck? Are you trying to kill me? Weak skinny human here.”

Isaac had the decency to look a little sorry. “I forgot”.

“Yeah well you suck, so.” Stiles went back to writing. Derek crossed over to the far side of the counter, preparing for a fight. He didn’t think Isaac was going to hurt the human, but Stiles might take a swing at the werewolf. He was still pretty mad at the pack for kicking him out.

“Can I help you?” Stiles said, throwing his pencil down and glaring at the wolf who was still staring at him. “This whole, intimidation, staring at me thing won’t work anymore. You’ve got nothing on Derek. That guy has intimidation down pat and he doesn’t even scare me anymore.”

“You spend a lot of time with Derek.” Isaac smirked, and Derek wanted to punch the younger wolf. This had turned into the if you hurt him, I’ll kill you thing which meant to the wolves all knew how Derek felt about Stiles. Of course they did. They could smell it. No secrets among wolves. 

“Derek’s a good guy.” 

“Yeah I know. Hence the hanging out with him.”

“I mean, he’s really a catch. A good guy to have backing you up.”

“Yeah, I guess. What’s your point?” Stiles shot Derek a confused look over Isaac’s shoulder. The human smelled confused, but not scared or angry, so Derek didn’t move to stop the conversation as much as he wanted to. 

Isaac cocked his head to the side, a habit that he picked up from Derek, studying the human. 

“Nothing. No point, I guess. Derek, we’ll see you when Chris sends the spells.” Isaac stood again, picking up his drink. 

“Okay, bye” Stiles was already back in his papers.

Ethan, who had stayed silent this whole time, cleared his throat and gave Isaac a pointed look. 

“Stiles.”

“What?” Stiles was annoyed now and he slammed down his notebook on the table as he glared at Isaac. 

“Scott’s a good guy as well. He’s a good alpha.” Isaac was looking at the floor, his heart steady but smelling anxious. 

“I know that.”

“He’s not being a very good friend.”

Stiles’ scent soured immediately and a flash of pain crossed his face before it went unpleasantly blank. “Yeah. I know that too.” 

He stood up and walked over to the counter that Derek was leaving against, for protection or just to hide, Derek wasn’t sure. “Nice to see you again. Both of you. Maybe we can do it again in another six months.”

The two wolves left and Stiles let out a sigh. He leaned causally against Derek, who had to stop himself from wrapping himself around the human. 

“Isaac means well.” Derek said, nudging the human with his shoulder.

Stiles just nodded.  
\----  
Stiles asked Derek to invite Ethan and Isaac over for supper then next day. Apparently, whatever had been said between them counted as an apology and Stiles claimed he wanted to try to work things out with them. 

The meal itself was good. Stiles made an artichoke dip and Derek made brisket and roast potatoes. Stiles made mud pie cookies again, but wouldn’t say if they were apology cookies or not. Between all wolves, there wasn’t a scrap left, though Derek wished Stiles had eaten more. He was doing better, but there were still days that if Derek didn’t feed the kid, he wouldn’t eat. 

The company was a little forced. This group had never hung out together and no one knew what to say. Isaac and Ethan looked almost afraid to bring anything up, starting sentences and never finishing them. Stiles didn’t help. He was in one of his quiet moods. Twice he zoned out for no reason and Derek had to grab his wrist to bring him back. 

The wrist thing had been working a lot lately. It was the perfect amount of physical contact to ground Stiles, without overwhelming him. It had become almost a security blanket for him and it satisfied the wolf in Derek’s need to comfort his human. He would hold out his wrist at random times and Derek would hold it while they were out doing errands or watching TV.

Once the meal wrapped up, Ethan looked ready to go, but Isaac made him stay to watch a movie, claiming Derek had the best surround sound. Stiles had picked out a foreign film and flashed a small smile at Isaac as they settled in to watch it. 

“I know they’re your favorite, even if you won’t admit it. This one won an Academy Award last year.”

Isaac looked pleased but Derek snorted in amusement. Stiles rounded on him “Don’t you judge Mr. Documentary lover” and Derek threw his hands up in defeat.

“What do you like Ethan?” Derek asked, genuinely curious. He didn’t know much about his new pack mate.

“Action mostly. Don’t like to think too hard” Ethan said, leaning back on the couch and stretching like a pup. 

“Dude can’t set me up like that.” Stile complained plopped down next Derek on the couch. “I’ll let it go this time, but next time you’re getting mercilessly mocked.”

The movie sucked everyone in, even Ethan, and by the time the beta’s left, they were raving about how they had to do it again. Stiles grinned and punched Derek.

“I told you this was a good idea.”  
\----  
Ethan and Isaac started coming over all the time. 

Isaac and Stiles developed an interesting love/hate relationship that mostly consisted of seeing who could be the most snarky. Isaac was careful to never push too far- if the human ever started to actually smell upset, he stopped. Likewise, Stiles pushed Isaac’s button, but never brought up anything actually hurtful, like Isaac's father or Scott. Ethan rooted for them equally while Derek just rolled his eyes. 

Ethan was a surprisingly good guy. He reminded Derek of Boyd a little, in that he could convince Stiles to do something, or rather, not do something, with just a look. He started hanging out with him in the afternoons when Derek was busy. Knowing this calmed Derek down, especially since he had found out how often his human hung out in the woods when left to his own devices. Derek had been smelling him out there for ages.

It concerned Derek, no it straight up freaked him out, but Stiles wouldn’t ever stop when he asked. He said he was looking for something important. Two weeks into their friendship, Ethan had assured Derek that they were now exclusively hanging out in town. Derek felt a twinge of jealousy that Ethan could convince him to stop when he couldn’t, but he was mostly just grateful. 

The two beta’s loved video games almost as much as Stiles. Stiles found an ‘extra’ Xbox, Derek didn’t want to know where, and hooked it up. Derek had never really played and was just terrible. Stiles laughed so hard he cried after Derek felt off the rainbow bridge the third time in a row. Ethan was just as bad, but Isaac was pretty good. 

It because popular pastime. Derek gave Stiles a key, Isaac already had one, and whoever was free any given day would just come over and play whenever they wanted. After that, someone from the pack was over every day.

He missed his alone time with Stiles, but having the pack around seemed to be good for his human. Stiles zoned out less and didn’t flinch when either wolf walked too close behind him. Isaac had always been the most tactile of all the wolves and it wasn’t long before Stiles was just as likely to lean against Isaac as Derek when they were on the floor playing video games. 

The wrist thing, though, that was still all Derek’s. 

The pack time was nice for Derek too. He began to feel like part of the pack, not the older outsider that was tagging along. He wanted it to last so he started buying extra snacks all the time, asking what kind of soda Ethan liked, and what kind of chips Isaac wanted. He even thought about asking them to come live here, but considering it hadn’t work so well last time, he contented himself with the daily visits. Covered in the smells of his friends, his loft felt more like home than anywhere had in a long time.

The loft smelled like pack, animal bodies hadn’t show up in three days, and even though it was still unbelievably hot and still hadn’t rained, it was shaping up as one of Derek’s best summers ever.  
\---  
Chis got the pack the spells quickly through the wonders of the internet. Isaac and Ethan brought them over one afternoon.

Stiles had been there since he got off work. He had been every night this week. There had been a murder with no leads a few days ago, similar to the young woman at the beginning of summer, and John was spending a lot of time at work.

The murders didn’t add up to Derek or the Sheriff when they had talked them over the last Friday. Scott insisted they weren’t supernatural. The bodies were cut open, but not by claws, and didn’t smell like anything but humans. But, if it was a human, they didn’t leave any DNA or fingerprints. There was no motive, no connection between the victims other than their sex, and no murder weapons. 

John wanted to keep Stiles as far away from it as possible. The Sheriff had texted Derek despite the werewolf never having given the lawman his number, asking him to keep Stiles close for now.

It wasn’t hard. Stiles had already started spending every afternoon at the loft. He worked on his speech, or played video games if Isaac or Ethan was free. He helped cook super with Derek before going home, taking leftovers for supper to his dad. 

Derek loved it, though he was careful to keep up an appropriate amount of eye rolls and exasperation for the sake of appearances. He loved having his human nearby, even though the wolf howled for more. 

Derek had thought the wolf might get, now that Stiles had started to stay the night. Not every night, but some.

It started with a nightmare. Derek had just gotten out of the shower after finishing his nightly patrols with no disturbances when he heard the hummingbird heart he was so used to pounding even faster than usual. 

His wolf snarled and Derek raced down the stairs, claws popping out and fangs dropping as he ran, to find Stiles at the bottom, smelling like panic, but not blood. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” Derek couldn’t help but pull his human in close for a quick hug.

“I’m fine.” Stiles heart was calming down but he didn’t pull out of the hug. “I just had a nightmare and dad wasn’t home. I thought I would take drive and I ended up here.”

It must have been a hell of a dream to make Stiles leave the safety of his house this late at night. Derek didn’t push. He was happy he was here. He lead the way upstairs and made Stiles a cup of warm milk.

“You should go to bed. You have to get up early.” Stiles said, accepting the milk and then walking over to settle into the couch. Derek wrapped a warm blanket around the trembling human. It was the one he had brought back from New York. It didn’t still smell like Laura anymore, not really, but when he had a long day, he liked to pretend it still did.

Derek just shrugged and settled on the couch, grabbing Stiles’ offered outstretched wrist and flipping the TV on to some stupid sitcom. He would be fine going without a little sleep. He wasn’t leaving his human alone like this. 

It was nearly an hour before Stiles spoke again. “Can I stay? Overnight?” 

Stiles eyes were distant and tired. He looked worn down, too much like he had looked at the beginning of summer. Whatever the nightmare had been, it had been bad.

“Of course.” 

“You should go to bed.” Stiles looked around; seeming slightly more aware “Where is your bed anyway? It’s not on the floor anymore.”

Derek snorted. “There’s three bedrooms upstairs, and a two bathrooms. I only slept down here because Isaac and Peter were upstairs. I was the alpha. My wolf needed to protect them.”

“Does your wolf need to protect me?” Stiles asked jokingly.

“Yes.” 

“Oh” Stiles looked at Derek in the eyes, dark and troubled. Derek couldn’t read what was going on in them. “Let’s go then.”

The two men when upstairs. Derek was practically vibrating with nervousness as they walked towards his bedroom. Surely Stiles wasn’t coming to bed with him. To his own bed. Where he slept. And did other nighttime activities. 

Derek shouldn't have worried. Before Derek could work himself into a mess, Stiles broke off and ducked into the room next door to Derek’s. He made himself comfortable in Isaac’s old room without prompting and called out a soft goodnight through the wall. 

Ever since that night, Stiles stayed over if the Sheriff had to work the night shift, sleeping on the couch or in Isaac’s room. Derek liked to think that Stiles was completely comfortable at the loft. His scent had seeped into the bedrooms and was just as much a part of the building as Derek’s was. 

The point of all this was Stiles was there, reading his Polish novel, when the beta’s came in, practically tripping over each other in excitement. 

Derek got it. They were excited to have a lead, finally, but Stiles didn’t want anything to do with the supernatural and he was here. He finally felt completely safe here, and Derek didn’t want that to change. 

“Guys. Now isn’t the time” Derek tried to be diplomatic as he tried to push the betas out, literally putting a hand on either of their heads and pushing. 

“But Derek look at this.” Isaac slipped under his arm and started laying the papers out on the kitchen table. “Chris thinks it could be any of these but if we can figure out which one it is than we can figure out a counter spell. We’ll fix the problem, easy, and we can enjoy the rest of the summer.” He looked pointedly at Stiles who was still reading on the couch.

Derek signed and picked up one of the spells, then another. He didn’t know much about magic but some of these looked wrong. 

“Isaac” He said through gritted teeth. “Did you happen to notice that none of these are in English?”

Isaac’s jaw dropped as he gripped the offending document from Derek. “It’s Latin or something.” 

Ethan laughed at Isaac’s slack jaw expression until Derek swatted his across the head. 

“Call Lydia.” Derek hated to involve her, but she was the smartest of all of them and the only one who had a chance of figuring this all out. “Tell her we need help.”  
\----  
Lydia’s heels clicked on the wooden floors as she flounced in. She glanced up at Stiles, who was still sitting in the living room and doing a good job of pretending he wasn’t watching the pack. If Derek hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t turned a page since the beta’s walked in, he never would have known that he wasn’t engrossed in the novel.

Lydia’s eyes narrowed at Stiles, but she didn’t say anything. She just huffed and began to lay out book after book on the kitchen table. She smelled annoyed, but not surprised. Taking control like only Lydia could, she scoffed at the werewolves and set them to work. 

Isaac was wrong. The spells weren’t all in Latin. Only three of them were. 

“Which is not problems for me” Lydia said a little too smugly. “But I don’t really read ancient French or German,” she gestured to the other pages laying on the table “Or Greek”.

Derek felt the beginning of a headache gathering behind his eyes. This was going to suck.

It sucked. Lydia began to translate her three spells without any problems, writing the English translation in a notepad while texting Kira at the same time about movie times later that night. 

Derek scooped up the two in French before the other wolves could. He was fluent in Spanish, though he didn’t brag about it, and figured French couldn’t be that different.

He was wrong to. French was awful. He ended up using his laptop to translate every other word and even then, the spell itself didn’t make any sense. It seemed to be about bringing rocks to life, which was so weird. The whole thing was stupid and frustrating. Chris should have just sent them the English versions of all of these. It was just like a Hunter to make everything more difficult than it had to be. He didn’t even realize he was growling at papers until Lydia smacked his arm and told him to shut up and get back to work.

Derek felt a little better when he saw the other beta’s weren’t doing any better. Isaac had grabbed the only German spell and that left poor Ethan the four in ancient Greek.

Ethan looked overwhelmed. His eyes were bugging out of his head and his jaw was open. He didn’t have a smart phone, so he was stuck using an old reference book Lydia had brought to try to make sense of the pages in front of him. Derek sincerely hoped that weren’t going to have to rely on his translation to save Beacon Hills because they would most certainly be dead. 

Isaac was doing slightly better. He had copied Derek and was using his phone to translate word for word, but glancing over at his notes, it seemed that something was getting lost in translation. 

“Isaac this is a sex manual. You’re writing a sex manual. ”

Isaac shrugged. “It’s what the internet says.”

“I’ll check it later” Lydia said looking up from her phone “The language in all of these seems to be pretty vague. It could be something about using sexuality to increase one’s strength. There are lots of legends about thing like that.”

Leave it to Lydia to be practical about the fact that Isaac was wring porn in Derek’s living room. Derek shook his head and went back to his stupid ass French. This was worse than homework. 

“The problem is” Lydia said about two hours in “that even if we translate all of these correctly it doesn’t necessarily mean we will be able to figure out which one they are using or even track it back to the witch or mage. Magic works differently for different people. It’s not all cut and dried and for more powerful scorchers, it’s more like guidelines."

“Then why are we even doing this?” Isaac complained throwing his pencil down. 

“Because if you can figure out the spell, you might be able to figure out what the witches are after. Figure out the end goal and work backwards from there.”

Stiles voice came from right behind Derek and a hand brushed against the small of his back, making him jump. He had been soon focused he hadn’t heard the teen move. 

“Hey.” Stiles, novel still in hand and looking a little pale, was looking over his shoulder at the mess on the table. 

“Hey.” It took Derek a moment to stop reading but then he was suddenly worried. “Shit, are you okay having all this here? Do you need to go upstairs?”

“Never mind that” Lydia’s voice was sharper than it had been all evening. “What do you mean end goal?”

Stiles shrugged as he skimmed his long fingers over the spells and notes littering the table. 

“You guys think the goal is to kill a bunch of woodland creatures? No way. It’s something bigger. It could be revenge for literally anything the Hale pack has ever done or it could be to gain enough power to control you guys, or maybe something to get rich, never underestimate the power of money.” 

Stiles picked up one of the spells then put it back down and looked Lydia square in the eyes.

“No matter what, it’s going to get a lot worse than some dead animals, a little drought, and two dead girls.”

“You think the murders your dad is investigating have something to do with this?” Derek asked, his apprehension was growing as Stiles continued talking. If he was right, and Stiles was always right about things like this, whoever was doing this was way more powerful than the coffee shop witches. He had been near them for weeks, there was no way they could be casting a spell this powerful and he not smell it. Magic like this smelled like spices and tar, it was hard to miss. 

“Two girls killed the same way both on the new moons? Yeah pretty sure.” Stiles gestured at the moon slowly rising outside as he talked and scattered the papers all over Ethan and the floor. Ethan have a long suffering sigh as he bent down and helped Stiles gather them back up. 

“What else do you think?” Derek asked carefully as Stiles straightened back up.

“Nothing” Stiles said with a straight face but his heart jumped. Lie. 

“Stiles.” Derek glowered at him. 

“Derek” Stiles singsong back at him. “I promise I didn’t figure out all of this behind your back and not tell you. I don’t do stuff like this anymore.”

That was the truth. Stiles had kept his nose out of all of the police business this summer and never asked about the pack business, only how its members were doing. 

“The only reason I came over here in the first place is to tell you I’m just going to go for a bit.”

Derek’s face tightened and Stiles gave him a half smile. “Calm down the brooding. I’m fine. I’ll be back.”

“Be careful” Derek didn’t like that look on his human’s face. It was pensive and dangerous.

“Always.” Stiles turned to walk out. He was opening the door when Lydia called out at him.

“Which spell did you take Stiles?”

All the wolves stared at the human as his heart jumped. 

Stiles turned back around, face red and eyes down, looking guilty as hell. 

Derek didn’t know if he was mad or disappointed. Either way, he grabbed Stiles by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a kitchen chair. 

“Talk.” he barked out.

Stiles pulled the spell out from the pages of his book. It was one of the Greek ones and very short, only a few lines long.

“I didn’t think you would notice. Ethan clearly has no idea what it says.” Stiles said, like it was an excuse. 

“Try again” Derek said at the same time Ethan said “You read Greek? Why the hell was I wasting my time?”

Stiles chose to answer Ethan. Probably because Derek’s expression was pure danger. “Yeah, when we read the Odyssey in school the teacher kept saying things about what Homer meant in the original Greek that I didn’t think were true and kept taking away points when I said he was wrong. So, I went on a bit of a research binge and somehow or another ended up learning it, kinda sorta. I don’t know every word but I get the gist. And I would have helped but I’ve sworn off research of the supernatural kind.” Stiles glanced around the room at the pack’s expressions. 

Lydia was smirking, Ethan was angry, and Isaac just looked amused that Ethan had wasted his time. Derek though, Derek looked absolutely murderous. 

“Then why did you steal it”

“Oh good we’re back to questions without questions. You have got to stop that little habit Derek. It’s confusing for us multi-lingual speakers.”

“Stop deflecting and answer the question.”

“Make me.” Stiles stuck his tongue out childishly and Lydia rolled her eyes as she snatched up the spell to read over.

Derek was so frustrated he saw red. Stiles should have never been involved in any of this and now he was hiding something. He was going to get hurt again and it would be Derek’s fault for allowing these spells into their house. 

Derek heard the kitchen chair smash on the floor before he remembered deciding to throw it. Chest heaving, he howled his frustration to the moon, fangs dropping effortlessly. 

The pack stared at the mess.

“Damn.” Isaac whispered. 

“He stole it because it’s a tracking spell.” Lydia said, unfazed by Derek’s tantrum. 

Derek rounded on Stiles “So you saw the spell and though you would what? Play hero? Track down the witches and go after them on your own? Even though you’re basically useless by yourself?

Stiles flinched at Derek’s choice of words and Derek regretted them immediately. He had spent most of the summer trying to prove Stiles’ own worth to himself; he didn’t need to undo it all in moment of anger.

“No, I was going to go home and do the spell and call Scott with what I found and stay the hell out of it.” Stiles was talking again before Derek could apologize, eyes suddenly hard and jaw set. 

“Stiles this is a blood spell.” Lydia had her laptop out now, double checking the wording of the spell.

“Yeah I know. Deaton had told me about it once, when we were looking for our parents. It tracks down the most powerful thing in the area, regardless of what they are. It wouldn’t have worked at the time, with the Nemeton being unstable, but I’m betting now it would now that Deaton has it protected.”

Lydia looked thoughtful. “This could work. Assuming the most powerful thing in the area is the spell caster.”

“No” Derek growled. He didn’t know what a blood spell was, but it sounded dangerous and stupid. “No way. No way are you doing it.”

“Why not? I’m useless at everything else?”

It was Derek’s turn to flinch. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s still what you said.”

“Actually, I think it does have to be Stiles.” Lydia closed her laptop. “It needs to be virgin blood.”

“You’re still a virgin?” Isaac asked sounding genuinely curious. 

“Yeah I’ve been a little too busy trying not to go crazy to get laid.” Stiles said curtly. “So, it has to be my blood and what else? Sage and thyme in a circle around a map of the area we need right?”

“And rosemary” Lydia said. 

“I have a map” Ethan supplied. Derek glared at him. “What? I don’t have a smart phone and I still don’t know Beacon Hills that well.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized I didn't clarify last chapter. There will be no Malia in this story. I didn't need another character to keep track of, plus I hated the way the show chose to put she and Stiles together at Eichen House. 
> 
> I will be destroying Stiles in this chapter because I'm a sucker for hurt characters. Consider yourself warned.

Stiles just wanted to read his book. It was a retelling of Snow White, only it took place in Poland during the Holocaust. Snow White had just woken up to find her world destroyed. She looked up with the resistance fighters in the woods and was being completely badass. She reminded him a little of Allison and Stiles was desperate to find out if she survived.

It took his mind of worrying about his dad and the new murder. 

Stiles liked his book. Reading in another language took more focus, and it was good for him. He was thinking of taking another language class next semester. The more the merrier. 

He liked reading here at the loft, where it was safe and comfortable. The couch smelled like Derek, instead of fast food and socks like his own. He had started spending more and more time here, even staying the night occasionally.

Derek was still the best friend he could ask for. He let Stiles pick the movies and they still cooked. Sometimes it was even eatable. It was wonderful, as long as Stiles could ignore the little voice in his head that wanted a little more from the wolf. 

Then Isaac and Ethan walked in.

Stiles could have helped translate the spells, yeah, but he didn’t really want to. No, it was more than just not wanting to. The idea of having anything to do with the pack business made his heart race and his face get red. He was sweating like a pig and he couldn’t focus on his book. He tried to keep in under control, Derek kept shooting him worried looks, but he couldn’t take listening to it much longer. But, yeah, let’s say he was an ass and didn’t want to help, instead of a pathetic basket case who wanted to run away. 

Then Lydia came over and Stiles could practically feel her icy glare, though he didn’t dare look up. She organized the mess and put the wolves to work, but Stiles still itched in ways he couldn’t scratch. 

He didn’t plan on interrupting. It was just, even though he really didn’t want to get involved, his head couldn’t leave the problem along. He thought about the witches all the time. He was almost sure the coffee shop women were the problem, no matter if the pack said they were clean. It hadn’t rained since they opened the shop, crops were dying, animals were dying and in the two months since they showed up, there had been a murder on each new moon. Murders his dad was currently working.

There was no way it was coincidence. 

He didn’t really care about their motivation. He didn’t care that they were human. He just wanted them gone. He toyed with the idea of setting the shop on fire, but didn’t think he could keep it from Derek. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach outright murder, so he was still thinking on how to get rid of them. 

He had been getting up to tell Derek he was going to run out and get some food and much needed air when he saw the spell. 

It was old one, in Greek but he didn’t have to read it to know what it was. He had seen it before in Deaton’s office. He knew all about it and he just grabbed it without thinking, pushing the papers on the floor to cover the theft. 

His heart was racing but his face was blank as he headed for the door, walking just a little quicker than normal. The spell would lead him to the most powerful thing in Beacon Hills. Either it would be the witches or it would be whatever they were after. Either way, it would save a lot of time and maybe give Scott the advantage. 

But, Derek wouldn’t like Stiles doing it and would try to stop him. So, he would do it at home. Hey, it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. At least, that what he told himself. 

“What spell did you take?”

Lydia. Of course. She had been watching him like a hawk the whole time.

There wasn’t any point of lying, not to a room full of werewolves. So, he did what he did best, he deflected.

And of course, Lydia figured it out and Derek growled and snarled. He even smashed a chair. It was all Stiles had in him not to say “bad dog, but he didn’t quite dare. Honesty, he was acting just how Stiles thought he would. Which is why he didn’t tell him the first place. Jeez.

He did not expect Derek to call him useless. That was a surprise and not the good kind. 

It hurt.

Stiles lost track of how, he was too busy trying focus on taking deep breathes and not the fact that his best friend though he was useless, but somehow the pack agreed to let him do it. Derek looked absolutely murderous as he glared at the island where Lydia was curtly helping him set up the spell.

It wasn’t a hard spell, technically. Map on the island, herbs in a circle on the floor, virgin bleeding on the map. They even had all the ingredients right there. Stiles made a mental note to mock Ethan for carrying an actual map, before bulling Derek into buying him a smart phone. 

But hard wasn’t the problem. Deaton had said this spell required a lot of belief in one’s ability to find what one was looking for. And Stiles didn’t have a lot of belief in himself at all. 

But he had to try.

He took a look at Derek’s scowling face and subtly mixed a little mountain ash from his pocket in with the herbs before making the circle and stepping in. No one was stopping him. Not now.

He made the cut on his left wrist with a kitchen knife and hissed at the burn. Derek growled softly, the way he did when he didn’t even know he was making a noise. 

“Easy there big guy,” Stiles said, with a strained smile. “Don’t wimp out on me before we even start.”

He held his arm over the map and let the blood drip. 

He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the big old pile of nothing that was happening. He tried to ignore the others; Isaac’s and Ethan’s whispers and Lydia’s and Derek’s relentless stares. He tried to grasp the same thing in himself that he did when he moved the mountain ash. 

He waved one arm around let his blood dot small drops evenly onto the map, eyes closed and face screwed up as he focused on finding power.

Moments passed and still nothing happened. 

“Maybe we read it wrong.” Ethan said.

“Shush” Lydia said, watching the map intently. 

Moments drug by punctuated only by the slow but steady drip of Stiles blood. 

Derek made a noise, probably to suggest they stop, when Stiles felt a pull in his head. His eyes flew open in shock but it didn’t matter. The spell had taken, Stiles was sure of it. Even he could smell it in the air.

His head didn’t hurt. But it felt like he was on merry go round from hell. He couldn’t see and everything was spinning wildly. 

“Oh my God.” he said in shock. His cut that had been dripping suddenly began to gush blood, the wound opening deeper and longer until it was all the way across this wrist.   
Blood covered the map in bright red. Stiles could smell iron. It had to be almost overwhelming for the werewolves, but his head felt too heavy to lift up and check. 

“Uggg” Stiles moaned as the pull in his head increased and blood began to trickle down his nose. Derek made a furious noise. 

Derek don’t!” Lydia shouted. 

She needn’t have bothered. Stile felt, rather than saw, Derek try to cross the ash and get pushed right back. Derek let out a frustrated shout. 

“Mountain ash.” Stiles grit out. No need to make him think it was part of the spell as well. He forced his head up and glanced over at Derek who looked so damn wounded and shrugged. “Couldn’t have you stopping me.”

“Derek look” Lydia said pointing at the map. The spell was working. The blood was moving on its own accord, wiggling around as it began to cover the town. 

“Gross.” Isaac said, looking a little nauseous. 

“What’s it doing?” Ethan asked.

“It’s narrowing down the most powerful being block by block.” Lydia answered. They watched as the blood covered the streets until only downtown was left. 

“Come on, come on. Hurry” Lydia hissed. Stiles could feel the color leaving his face and he wondered how long he could keep this up. Not long enough, if Lydia’s words were anything to go by. 

His knees gave out and he gripped the edges of the island to keep from falling on his face. He kept his bleeding wrist up, however, and blood continued to wiggle and move. They were so close. Only a few buildings were left uncovered. 

“Derek. That’s the street the shop is on. It’s the witches. They’re at the coffee shop.” Ethan said quietly, calm despite the worry around him.

Stiles didn’t hear any reply. He forced his head up again. It left like a ton of bricks. Derek was staring at him, toe on the mountain ash line, wolfed out and fierce.

“Stiles. It’s close enough. You can stop.” Lydia said, almost sounding worried.

“Yeah dude. You need to stop. You’re looking pale. Sick.” Isaac said. Stiles wondered if he knew how close those were to the exact thing he had said when the pack had been driving to rescue Lydia. The night Allison died.

“I can finish it.” Stiles grit out. His eyes wouldn’t focus and the blood from his nose was dripping into his mouth, but he could do this. He wasn’t useless.

“Lydia, break the line.” Derek was talking, sounding a million miles away. He sounded hurt and for a moment Stiles worried the wolf was bleeding too. There was so much blood.

“I’m trying” Lydia snapped, fruitlessly pawing at the line beside him.

“I can finish it.” Stiles repeated.

The other noised in the room had faded into the background. All Stiles could hear was his own heart racing in his ears. He wondered if he would die of a heart attack before he bled out.

“Please.” Derek whispered. He sounded broken, the way he had after he killed Boyd. Stiles wondered who was dying this time. He hoped it wasn’t his fault.

Stiles let his bleeding wrist fall and the second his blood stopped dripping on the map, he felt the spell break. The room stopped spinning, but then titled to the side. He couldn’t catch his breath. His eyelids fluttered as the people in the room rushed to the circle. He let the mountain ash circle break with a wave of his uninjured hand and let his knees buckle all the way down. 

He never hit the ground. Warm arms circled him, cradling him against a broad chest.

Bandages were pressed against his still bleeding wrist. Stiles felt like it should hurt, but it didn’t. He felt pleasantly numb and content to just lay and watch the chaos around him through his blurry eyes. 

Lydia raced out of the room, heels clacking on the floors, but Stiles could hear her shouting at Isaac to call Melissa. He yelled back at her to bring more towels while pulling out his phone. Ethan was saying something about shock, about an ambulance. They all looked pale and drawn, like they had been bleeding as well.

Stiles couldn’t understand why there were all still there. They needed to be out catching the witches. They knew where they were right now, but they might not stay there. It was important, but he couldn’t find the energy to say it. 

“You’re going to be fine. You’re fine.” Derek was whispering in his ear. He was holding him up, half sitting, half kneeling on the floor. He was the one pressing the rapidly darkening bandages to his wrist. Stiles heard his bones creak from the pressure.

“You’re fine.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure if that was true. He had been hurt a lot, like a lot, but had never felt quite like this. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest and he was cold, but he could still feel sweat sticking to his body. He felt completely drained. He couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. 

Ethan was hovering uselessly just at the edge of Stiles vision, looking worried. 

“His lips are turning blue.” Ethan said, “Lydia, his lips are blue!” 

 

“Shit!”   
Fresh weight was added to the bandage and a blanket, Derek’s favorite, was tucked around him. It was comforting and Stiles didn’t have the energy to keep his eyes open any more. If this was the end, it was a good end. 

“’tiles!” Derek sounded panicked. There was no need to panic. Everything was fine. The pack would be fine.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare give up!” 

Stiles managed a twitch of his lips, though he was far too tired to open his eyes. Even now, the werewolf was bossy. 

“Sorry” Stiles managed to slur out, before he when limp and let the darkness come.  
\-----  
Stiles open his eyes to a darkening cloud filled sky. The wind played with his hair as he lay on the cool ground. Its smelled wet, like a storm was coming in. 

Stiles got to his feet, surprised how achy his head still felt. But, there was no gaping wound on his wrist so that was a plus. He rubbed at his head with one hand as he turned in a circle.

He was in the same clearing, he knew it. But the trees looked darker, older. It didn’t feel so safe here. He hoped his mother wouldn’t come out. He didn’t want to see her here.

“Stiles.” A woman in a deputy’s uniform stepped out from behind a tree. 

“Tara!” Stiles let a smile light up his face. He bounded over for a hug.

Tara had joined the force about the same time his mother had passed. She had only been in her twenties, but she had a little brother with ADHD and knew just how to handle the sheriff’s hyperactive son that he now had to bring to work with him more often than not. They had been close, very close. 

Stiles had cried at her funeral. 

She hugged back but let go quickly, both of her hands on his shoulders. Stiles tried to squirm out of her grip but it was unnaturally tight. 

“Stiles listen to me. We don’t have a lot of time. You have to stop coming here. It’s not natural. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Is this heaven?” Stiles had been thinking about where on earth this place could be ever since Heather told him he didn’t belong here. “Or is it hell?”

Tara looked sad when she answer “Neither. It’s a…”

She turned around sharply, like she heard something behind them. Stiles didn’t see anything. 

“Can you hear him?” she asked.

Stiles stopped fidgeting and listened. It was so quiet he almost missed it over the wind, but in the distance he could hear a howl. 

“Is that Derek? Is he here?” Stiles felt a jolt a fear. Derek didn’t belong here. He couldn’t be here.

Tara opened her mouth but before she could speak, she vanished in thin air. None of the others had done that. Stiles had always been the one to disappear. Suddenly, Stiles felt an awful pain in his chest and gasped.

The howling was right in his ear. Hands bit into this arms and he felt like the rope in tug of war. 

He turned his head to find the source of his discomfort, only to find a wolfed out Derek howling in rage desperately clutching at him. Isaac and Ethan each had a hold of one of Derek’s arms and were trying to drag him away. 

“Derek, she’s just trying to help!” Isaac shouted over the never ending howls. 

“Get him out of here. Now! Or I swear to God, I will call Scott.” 

Oh good. Melissa was here. Stiles hadn’t seen her in forever, not since the last time he was in the hospital. He had missed her. He never got to see her anymore.

Isaac and Ethan finally dragged Derek away towards the living room, his claws scoring deep groves in the wood. His howling didn’t stop. It just turned despondent as he was pulled away.

“Melissa he’s awake.” Lydia was beside his head now, holding his uninjured hand. Her eyes were puffy and red. Stiles wondered why she was crying but filed it away for later. Right now, he needed to get the wolves out hunting the witches. 

“Stiles” Melissa was swimming in front of him. She had that look on her face. The one that said she was worried and disappointed but focused. Scott called it her work face. Stiles had seen it many times before. 

“Hey, Mrs. McCall” Stiles slurred out. 

She smiled softly. 

“Hey sweetie. You’ve lost a lot of blood already so I’m going to stitch your wrist here. You’ve lost too much to wait. I’ve numbed it, but if you need to pass out, go ahead.”

“Nah, I’m good. Need to talk to Derek. Where is he?” Stiles twitched as he tried to get to his feet to find the wolf. 

Melissa kept him down effortlessly with only one hand on his chest. “Derek needs a minute.”

Melissa got to work, warning him not to look. Stiles could feel the needle pulling on his skin, but no pain. It made his stomach turn.

He turned his head away from the mess that was his arm to look at Lydia just in time to see another tear sneak down her check. 

“You’re pretty when you cry” She was. Her hair was a disaster and her eyes were red but, in her vulnerability, she was beautiful.

Lydia huffed a laugh then ran her hand through his hair. 

“I’ve missed you.” Lydia said.

“I’ve missed you too. God, I missed you so much Lyds.” Stiles was starting to feel blurry again. “Can we be friends again? If I tell you I’m sorry, can we? I’m so sorry. I really am.”

She was crying again. “Of course. We can be friends. I’m sorry too. So sorry.”

“Good. Cause I’ve bought like 5 new plaid shirts I need you to yell at me for buying.”

Lydia laughed for real this time and started to scold him about his questionable fashion choices, keeping a tight hold of his hand while Melissa's needle tugged in and out.  
\-------  
Stiles closed his eyes. He was so tired. Melissa shook him slightly. “I need you awake just a little longer if you can. It will be worth it.”

There were footsteps then the warmest of hands were holding his. His stomach ache lessened, and he knew someone was draining the pain. 

Derek probably. Hopefully. 

“Is he alright?” Derek demanded. He sounded calmer, more in control.

“He will be, with rest and fluids. Blood loss takes a toll but give it a few days and he’ll be fine. It will be a nasty scar though. I didn't have time to make it pretty.”

Derek. Stiles needed to talk to him. It was important. 

“Derek, you have to go” Stiles said weakly. 

“No, I’m not going anywhere. Rest.”

Stiles dragged his eyelids open. Derek looked human again, but wrong. He looked vulnerable and young. Stiles shuttered at the idea that it was him who made the wolf look like that. Derek should never look like that.

“You guys need to go after the witches now. While you have the element of surprise.”

“No.”

“He’s right.” Isaac said from somewhere in the background.

“No.”

“I already texted Scott. He’ll make us go when he gets here anyway. If we leave now, he won’t have to come up and see all of this.”

“No.”

“Derek, we don’t go he did all of this for nothing.”

Isaac had hit a nerve. Derek looked torn, unsure.

“I don’t want to leave you. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“But I’m fine. The pack is more important. The town is more important. I’m fine.”

A small sting had Stiles turning his head from Derek to look at Melissa, who was placing an IV in his unbandaged arm. She hung the bag from one of the upper cabinets then turned to Derek, arms crossed. 

“I’ll be here. He won’t be alone. You should go Derek.”

“I’ll stay too. We have a lot to catch up on.” Lydia added.

“See? I’ll have excellent medical care. Plus, Lydia is my friend again. She’ll keep me safe.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but the lines around his eyes softened. 

“I’ll be right back” he promised. To Stiles absolute surprise, Derek bent down and kissed his forehead sweetly, before standing up and ushering the other wolves out the door without a backwards glance.

Lydia took her spot by Stiles’ head back. “You’re still pale and shaking.”

Stiles was. He was cold and now that Derek was gone, he felt sick again. Melissa grabbed another blanked and piled it on. 

“He’s stable, but weak. It’s to be expected. Talk to him, keep his mind off it. Let me know if anything changes.”

Lydia obeyed. Her voice was soothing, as she told Stiles about a summer internship in Los Angeles that would have been perfect, her mother wouldn’t’ let her go. So, she had made it her mission to be as annoying and teenagerish as possible. Basically, she and Kira had spent all summer by the pool, generally making messes and not cleaning them up. Her mom was so annoyed that she was threatening to make Lydia get a job. A job-how mundane. 

Stiles grinned as he listened, but it was getting hard to focus. His body was just so heavy. 

“Lydia, do l feel like death to you?” he asked out of the blue. 

“What? Of course not. You haven’t since we got rid of the Nogitsune. Why are you asking that?” Lydia looked worried, leaning down close to his face “Stiles, what’s wrong?” 

Stiles didn’t answer. He was far too tired. He let his eyes shut yet again. 

“Melissa” Lydia’s voice was shrill as she broke off from her story. “Melissa, something is wrong!”

“His blood pressure is dropping. Elevate his feet. Stiles, look at me. Stiles!”

Stiles once again felt the darkness pressing in. He didn’t bother to fight it.   
\-----  
Stiles opened his eyes and groaned. Once again, he was in the woods, surrounded by trees. It was darker than it had been just moments ago and the threat of rain was imminent. 

He didn’t get up this time. The ghost would find him. They always did. He lay on this back and watched the rain clouds gather, waiting. 

As expected, the leaves on the ground rustled as someone lay down next to him. A warm hand grabbed his and squeezed. 

“Hey Batman.”

“Hey Catwoman.”

“You don’t sound surprised to see me.”

Stiles shrugged and then realized that Erica couldn’t see it. “I had a feeling you would show up soon. It’s not a complicated pattern. If I loved you and you died, you come visit.”

“Do you know why?” 

“Nope. Punishment maybe. To see you unhurt and happy, like you would have been if I hadn’t killed you.”

Erica kicked him in the shin, hard. It felt like she still had werewolf strength. 

“You didn’t kill me Stiles. I got myself killed. I ran away. I got captured. Then, when I got free, instead of going back to Derek, I ran again. It’s not your fault. None of us are.” Erica sounded angrier the more she spoke and Stiles wondered if she was going to hit him again. 

Stiles took a moment before answering. The breeze was turning into a wind, and the tree tops were blowing back and forth hypnotizing. 

“I want to believe you.” He did. He really did. Everyone said it wasn’t his fault, but it just felt like it was. There were so many things he did wrong. So many things he wished he could change.

“I want you to, too” Erica sounded calmer. 

It was quiet for a bit. The wind blew stronger and the slight chill that had been in the air grew stronger. 

“Stiles, do you know why you’re here?” Erica scooted over closer, her warm body heating up the space between them.

“Haven’t we gone over this? To make amends, to say goodbye, whatever.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Think about it Stiles, why is this happening to you? How is it happening? You’re not involved in the supernatural at all right now. You didn’t do anything to make this happen. So why is it?”

Stiles hadn’t really thought about that. When he had first visited the woods, he pretended it was just a dream. The second time, he knew it was real but he never thought about the why. Then he had gotten busy with Derek and hadn’t worried about it.

He had only taken the time to figure out the pattern; each woman he loved that had died, in the order that they died. Then he just accepted it and moved on.

But how? 

“Someone is doing it to me.” Stiles could have smacked himself it was so obvious. “Someone used magic to send me here. And, if I had to guess, it’s the same witches doing everything else. It’s all part of the same plan.”

“Very good!” Erica said, sounding condescending and proud at the same time. “But why?”

He didn’t know. It didn’t make sense. If it was a gift, a chance to see those he loved, why would someone trying to take over the town give it to him. If it was punishment, a penitence, why would they wait until he was hurt to send him here. Why not every time he closed his eyes? He already had nightmares every night, why not add in some ghosts?

“Why?” Erica pushed again.

“I don’t know!” Stiles let go of her hand and sat up, running his hands through his hair angrily. “I don’t know. Add it to the list. I don’t know a lot of things.”

“But, you figure them out Stiles. That’s what you do.” Erica sat up as well as she met his eyes, looking fierce. “It’s important that you figure this out. Now.”

Stiles took a deep breath and focused.

“It’s a distraction.” Stiles said slowly. “The witches want me to be focused on this, on being here, so I don’t figure out what they are up to.”

“Exactly.”

“Only I didn’t. I hadn’t tried to figure any of this out. I mean, I haven’t figure out what they are up to in real life either. ”

“Why?” Erica was beginning to sound like a broken record.

"I’m out of the werewolf game. Besides, I’ve been distracted by Derek. And keeping my dad safe ” 

“Oh yeah you and Derek! Boyd and I have been watching that unfold. You guys are more entertaining than TV.”

“Please tell me you don’t watch us like that” Stiles had lots of things he didn’t want anyone seeing, his relationship with Derek was just one of them.

Erica smiled wickedly. “Of course not. We only get glimpses, sometimes. It’s complicated.”

“Erica, I’ve been here awhile. Usually I barely get to talk to whoever before I get pulled back”

“Well yeah. Your family keeps calling you back out too quickly. Scott, your dad, Derek. It’s been frustrating.”

“So, no one is calling me back?” Stiles was a little disappointed the girls had left him, but he was alright with staying her for a while yet. It was nice to feel no pain. Well less. He still had a headache.

“Oh no, Melissa and Lydia have been for ages. I thought you were just ignoring them to talk to me. You can’t hear them?” Erica said with a frown. 

Stiles shook his head.

“They’re worried. They’re talking about calling your dad. About calling an ambulance. You must not be as connected to them or you would hear them.”

Stiles closed his eyes and listened hard. The wind made it hard to hear but if he strained, he could hear their voices. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they did sound worried.

Erica threw himself at Stiles, planting a strong, wet kiss square on his lips. “Miss you Batman. Don’t hurry back.”

Stiles opened his eyes in surprise that she had kissed him, only to see Lydia’s worried face looking back down at him. He was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to get back to posting a new chapter every two weeks now. I had some trouble focusing on this work for a bit, and I accidentally started writing another multi-chapter work that stole all my attention for a bit. But, I have several chapters written for this story that just need edited before being posted, so I should be back on track. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	9. Chapter 9

Did you call my dad?” Stiles voice was hoarse, but he was pleased to find that he was slowly feeling better. Not good, his wrist was throbbing, his head was still spinning, and he doubled he could manage to pull himself up of the floor, but he didn’t feel so terrifyingly weak. He didn’t feel like he was going to drift away. 

Melissa mouth twitched into what might have been a smile. “I should have. But, no, not yet.”

“Good. Let's keep it that way.” Stiles shifted uncomfortable. His back was beginning to ache. “Think I could get up?”

Melissa looked at the nearly empty IV bag hanging above them. “Once it’s empty, we’ll get you to the couch. I don’t want you on this cold floor any longer than necessary, but let’s wait until you’ve got a little more color.”

While he waited, Stiles looked around as best he could while lying flat on his back. He figured he had been out awhile. When asked, Melissa said about 30 minutes. The wolves were still gone. Someone, probably Melissa, had cleaned up the kitchen. The ingredients of the spell were gone and instead of blood, it smelled like bleach.

Good. He didn’t want Derek’s loft to smell like his blood. Something told him that would be bad for Derek’s mental health.

Getting Stiles to the couch was hard. 

He was too weak to stand up on his own, so Lydia and Melissa had to do most of the work. Stiles was pretty sure he blacked out because one second the women were counting to three, then the next Lydia was yelling at him to pick up his feet and move already. It was harder than it should have been, and he felt a twist of anxiety. It was too much like the last time he wasn’t in control of his own body. And that time, someone he loved ended up death. 

Not this time. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

He grit his teeth and forced himself to take step after labored step. By the time he was being settled onto the couch, he was covered in a cold sweat, from both his anxiety and exhaustion.

Stiles was ready to curl up on a ball, but Melissa wasn’t having it. She sent Lydia out of the room before she striped of Stiles of his blood soaked jeans and t-shirt. There was a time that being undressed by Scott’s mom might have embarrassed Stiles, but not anymore. Now, he did his best to get his lead heavy limbs to move enough to be helpful while keeping a running commentary of all the reasons his dad didn’t need to hear about this. It included his father’s heart, his stress level at work, the fact that Stiles was fine, the fact that it was pack related and most importantly, it would make John worry about Stiles again when there was nothing to worry about. 

“And you don’t think coming come with stitches in your wrist and no explanation is going to be good for you father’s health?” Melissa asked as she attempted to fit a clean shirt over his head. “I’m going to call him after we get you dressed and I’m going to tell him the truth. That you’re a self-sacrificing idiot. Here, lean your head forward.”

“Where did you get these clothes?” He asked as he ducked his head. They were worn soft and smelled amazing, like Old Spice and cinnamon. 

“Lydia got them out of Derek’s room.” 

“Nope.” Stiles tried to tug the shirt back off, getting it as far as his head before it twisted and got stuck as Melissa tried to force his legs into the sweatpants. “I’m not wearing Derek’s clothes.”

“Why not? You’re close enough in size” Melissa said with a huff, giving up on the sweatpants as Stiles twisted his legs away. “You and Scott used to share, even after he got bit.”

“Uhhh, cause he’s a werewolf, like a real wolf, not like Scott. He’s got like super nose powers and I’m going to get my scent all over his stuff. And he’ll be all like ‘Stiles, your human smell is everywhere grrrrrrr. My eyebrows are so angry at you’ No thanks.”

Melissa looked amused. “Well its wear these or sit here naked with Lydia while I go call you dad.”

That wasn’t even a choice. Derek would just have to deal.

“Pants please.”

Melissa stepped outside, promising to make sure John knew that Stiles was absolutely fine and there was no reason to worry or come racing over. Lydia came back in, looking significantly more put together. Her hair was pulled back and her make-up had been reapplied to hide her bloodshot eyes. 

She plopped herself on the couch and curled up next to Stiles. 

“Do you want to go to sleep?”

Stiles shook his head. He was dog tired, but he didn’t want to, not if he could help it. He wanted to hear back from the pack, make sure they were all okay first. 

“Talk to me then. Tell me about your summer.” Lydia commanded, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Well, I’ve been working at the sheriff’s station. It’s exciting, sometimes.”

“I’ve heard” Lydia said darkly. 

“Oh, that things with the inmate was grossly exaggerated by everyone involved. I barely had a scratch.”

Lydia didn’t look impressed by the lie, but then again, she never was. Stiles continued. 

“Derek and I have been hanging out a lot. We cook and play video games. Ethan and Isaac do too.” Lydia looked a little bored. She didn’t care about video games. Stiles couldn’t think of anything he had been doing that would interest Lydia at all. “Oh wait, I learned Polish this summer. Well, how to read it. I already spoke it, kinda.”

Lydia perked up.

“Your mom was Polish, right? Hence the name?” 

“Yep. Its been nice, learning it. I think it would have made her happy. She was always just a little lonely being the only Pole in town, besides dad and he doesn’t really count, since he is like fifth generation. He’s never even been to Poland. I’ve been thinking about going to there for a visit. Mom had a sister who is still there.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah. We’ll see” Stiles hadn’t brought the trip up to his dad yet, but he had been saving as much of his salary as he could towards a plane ticket. Maybe by next summer he would have enough and it could be a sort of senior trip. 

“Tell me all the hot gossip. Have you taught Kira how to shop yet?” 

Lydia grinned and started a story about how hopelessly punk Kira still tried to dress. Melissa came back in just as Lydia was complaining about how Kira refused to go to Macey’s at all, only thrift stores. Melissa assured Stiles that John wasn’t on his way over in a panic, as long as Stiles promised to stay the night at the loft. 

That wouldn’t be a problem. Stiles wasn’t going anywhere until he was sure everyone was safe.

Melissa had to go to work but didn't look happy to be leaving the teens there. She twisted her hair around her finger while lecturing Lydia about the signs of blood loss, which Lydia undoubtedly already knew. Finally her need to pay the mortgage won out and she left, but not before she promised to come by soon and check on him. She swooped in and have him a tight hug before leaving. 

While Melissa talked, Lydia got out a nail fine and began to work on her nails.

“Me next.” Stiles demanded, holding his hands out as the door shut behind the nurse.

Lydia raised her eyebrows. 

“What? I hadn’t been pampered forever.” Mostly he just wanted Lydia to touch him without it being weird. He still felt distant and unsettled without Derek here to ground him. Plus, he missed holding her hand, even if he wasn’t attracted to her like that anymore. If it took a little nail polish, then that was just fine. His manhood could take it. 

Lydia was putting the topcoat over his newly ruby red nails, while Stiles fought to keep his eyes open when they heard the pack coming up the stairs. Loudly.

The door was ripped opened and they stumbled in messily. 

Ethan and Isaac, both with streaks of filth across their faces, were frog marching a blond petite woman who was crying heavily but making no attempts to escape the wolves. Derek, equally as dirty, was following close behind, arms circling a woman who was fighting with all her strength to escape, forcing him to carry her. Scott was beside him, a long burn across the side of his face and down his arm that was still healing. Kira brought up the rear, looking disheveled but unhurt. 

The woman Derek was carrying kept screaming, high pitched and frantic. She looked terrified, clawing pointlessly at the steel arms that held her.

Derek’s eyes flickered up to Stiles and Lydia on the couch before he disappeared with the woman into to kitchen. The other pack members, except Kira who ran upstairs for some reason, and their other captive, followed. 

Stiles pushed himself heavily to his feet. He wasn’t about to miss this but he was exhausted. It was going to be a long night.

“Shall we?” he asked, holding his hand out to Lydia. She took it without question. 

They nearly ran into Kira as they walked into the kitchen. Both the captives were sitting in two kitchen chairs that had been pulled far away from the table and the spells still resting on it. Kira threw a coil of the rope she was carrying to Ethan and Isaac as she too another one and went and helped Derek secure the screaming woman to the chair.   
Derek was none too gentle. Stiles winced as the wolf tightened the rope around her arms, cutting in to pale skin enough that Stiles could see it from where he stood swaying by the door. Ethan was kinder to the blonde, wrapping her just enough to where she couldn’t escape. 

Lydia was half holding Stiles up by the door with one hand, the other covering her nose. “You guys reek like smoke.”

The screaming woman noticed the two of them. 

“Oh my God. Please, you have to help us.” She cried, eyes filling with tears as Derek finished and straitened up. She was taller than the other woman, even sitting and had shoulder length brown hair. She had hard features, a long nose and wide forehead, but she wasn’t unattractive. 

“Please” she said again. “We weren’t doing anything. We were just going home and these guys grabbed us. They forced us here. They’re hurting us. Please. Please you have to help us.”

The smaller woman kept crying. 

“No one cares.” Derek said dryly as he grabbed one the other kitchen chairs and brought it over for Stiles. He gave Derek a grateful look and sank down into it. Derek placed himself directly in from of it blocking his view of the witches, arms crossed and looking terrifying. 

“No one hurt you. You hurt us.” Scott said a little indignantly, as he stood before the two women. His burns were almost healed now. “And no one here is going to believe you are the victim. We know you’re the ones casting the spells, causing all the trouble.”

“They’re all a pack, Flo” the crying woman said as Stiles flinched almost imperceptibly at the unknown insult. “No one is going to help us.”

“They have to Ivy. Please, please, we didn’t do anything. We aren’t casting spells. I don’t even know how.” The tall woman, Flo, continued to beg, a constant stream of words getting louder and more hysterical, as she twisted her arms under the course ropes until she drew blood. 

“Lie” Derek said. 

“Don’t do that” Kira snipped as the smell of blood filled the room, and Isaac began to growl though it could barely be heard over the begging and crying. 

“Don’t let her draw blood. She could use it for a spell.” Ethan added, moving forward, eyes flashing. 

“Don’t hurt her!” The blonde, Ivy, said through her tears. 

“Enough!” Thundered Derek. The room fell silent and the woman stopped twisting. 

“What happened?” Lydia asked, scooting Stiles over just enough that she could sit on the chair with him.

Scott answered, still facing the women. 

“Kira and I met up with the rest of the pack in the coffee shop parking lot. Derek said he had a lead on what was causing all the trouble and that it was there. We heard two heartbeats inside and decided to ambush them. Derek and I took the front and Isaac and Ethan the back. Kira stayed outside for backup. We had just gotten inside, we hadn’t even shifted, when the ceiling just burst into flames. We grabbed the girls and ran. This was the closest place that we knew was safe.”

“The fire spread way too quick” Isaac added. “It was definitely not normal.”

“It was magic.” Derek said simply.

Both women immediately began to deny it. 

“We didn’t start the fire.” Ivy said earnestly.

Stiles snorted. “Okay Billy Joel.” 

Ethan laughed as Lydia smacked Stiles’ shoulder with the back of her hand.

“What? That was a good one.”

Scott looked back at the humans, noticing for the first time that Stiles was there. He frowned in that baby-faced way that meant he was unhappy, eyebrows knitted together as he thought. 

Stiles decided to go for distracting him before he got kicked out yet again. “Why would they start a fire in a building they were in?”

“Exactly.” The blonde had stopped crying and was looking around the room at the pack hopefully. “We didn’t do anything.”

Stiles had to lean around Derek to look at her. She was the picture of innocence; blue eyes filled with unshed tears and face clear and pure. He didn't trust her at all.

“Sure. It’s just a coincidence you were in the exact same spot the most powerful thing in Beacon Hills was.”

“You can’t know that.” Flo said. 

“Uhh, yeah I can. I bled a lot to know that.”

“No, I mean, the only spell to track down a creature of power is hard. Impossibly hard. There is no way a werewolf could do it.”

Huh. That was weird. It didn’t seem hard, expect for the whole passing out in a pool of his own blood part.

“I’m not a werewolf.”

“Shut up Stiles” Derek and Scott said in unison.

“Can werewolf’s not do magic? Peter clearly could.” Stiles asked Lydia quietly, who just shrugged, too busy watching the women to answer. 

But at least they weren’t playing stupid anymore. 

“Why are you murdering women? Is it part of a spell? What do you want?” Derek asked bluntly, clearly tired of all the talking. 

“What? We didn’t murder anyone!” Ivy said through her tears. 

“We would never hurt anyone.” Flo said sincerely. “It goes against our very principals as Wiccan.”

Derek cocked his head to the side. “That’s the truth.”

“Okay, here’s the deal” Scott took over again. “You tell us what you know, and we’ll let you go.”

Outrage came from the pack. Every one of them began arguing about what a terrible idea that was, voices overlapping into a mess of anger. 

“Enough! Everyone out.” Scott echoed Derek’s earlier command, eyes flashing pure red. Stiles shuttered in spite of himself.

The pack stopped arguing, but no one looked happy. Isaac seemed to be chewing his tongue to keep from talking and Derek’s fists were clenched so tight Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if he was breaking bone. Even Kira looked put out, and she was practically walking sunshine. 

Ethan and Isaac stalked out, eyes flashing and growling. Kira followed, frowning at Scott as she passed. Stiles doubled any of them would go more than a few feet from the door. Lydia made a move to follow them, but Stiles grabbed her hand and held a finger up to his lips. If he knew Scott, and he did, he would forget about them if they just stayed quiet. Besides, Derek clearly wasn’t going anywhere and he was blocking them from the alpha’s view. 

Scott’s eyes were still red was he faced the witches again. “Tell me.”

The two women glanced at each other. Ivy started crying every harder as Flo lifted her head defiantly and spoke.

“Yeah, we’re witches. Wiccan technically, which isn’t strictly the same thing, its more like a lifestyle vs a religion but we do follow a lot of the same ideals and.” Flo swallowed heavily at the murderous look on Derek’s face and continued. “Anyway, we haven’t done anything to hurt anyone. I swear.”

Derek growled, taking a step forward. Scott laid a hand on his arm, stopping him. “They’re telling the truth.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they’re using magic to cover their heartbeats.”

Scott looked unsure. 

“Magic is dangerous. You can’t trust anything about it. Look at Deaton. He’s the trickiest man in Beacon Hills. We should kill them.” Derek was getting closer to the woman again, crowding their space. Flo began to twist pathetically against her ropes again. 

“But, if they are as powerful as we think, why did they allow themselves to be caught? And why get dragged here? They could use magic escape at any time, right?” Stiles knew he should stay quiet, but he couldn’t help but interject. Nothing was making any sense. 

“Maybe they just wanted to know where the pack house was.” Derek said. 

“This isn’t the pack house.” Scott looked confused. 

“We don’t care about your pack!” Flo said desperately as Derek leaned directly to her face, fangs out and eyes glowing blue. 

“Then why are you even here?” Lydia said from her seat on the chair, somehow managing not to look concerned about threats of carnage coming from the wolf. 

“We were paid.” Ivy spoke up at last.

“Shut up!” Flo shouted, but Ivy continued. 

“We were just a couple of Wiccan living in Kansas. I was a barista, Flo was a waitress. We belonged to a small coven. Then, about six, maybe eight, months ago I got an email. It was asking if my partner and I wanted the opportunity to make a lot of money in a little town in California called Beacon Hills.”

Lydia and Stiles exchanged a look. Eight months ago, Stiles had been possessed. What a coincidence. Only Stiles didn't believe in coincidence.

“The email offered us a coffee shop, to run and own as well as bonuses if we performed well. It was a chance to get out of Kansas. We took the job. We were stupid and naïve, and we took the job.”

“Who paid you?” Scott was in alpha mode again.

“I don’t know. We had an account in our names set up when we got here. Cash was deposited into it monthly. The shop was in our names when we arrived. We started out communicating with our boss through email then later, they would call sometimes. It was a woman, not too old sounding. After shit got bad, I tried to have it traced, but no luck.”

“What aren’t you saying?” Stiles asked, standing up and walking slowly towards the women trying not to show how weak he still was. “What shit got bad?” He stared at the women for a long moment. “What are you so afraid of?”

“After we got here, as soon as we got here our boss started blackmailing us. She let us run the shop at first, yeah, but then summer started, and she made us do other things, other magic. Black magic. She would tell us what spell and when. We were the ones who caused the animals to die and the rain to never come. Disturbances, she said, but no one would get hurt. We didn’t want to help her at all, but then the murder happened, and our boss said that she would blame it on us. But I swear to God, we never killed anyone.”

The timeline made sense. Someone knew the Nogitsune was here and planned on taking advantage of the chaos and the distraction of the pack. But they didn’t have enough time to get whatever done before it was gone. They needed a new distraction so they brought in new known openly practicing witches, knowing the pack would suspect them on principal and leave them free to do whatever without suspicion. 

“Please.” Flo finally broke in. “We never wanted any of this. Lock us up or send us away, but please keep us away from her. She’s the murder, I swear.” 

It was clever. 

Scott stared at Stiles for a long moment, his thinking face on again. Stiles shrugged. 

“I believe them.”

“I don’t.” Of course Derek didn’t. he didn’t believe anyone. Ever. 

The women were both sobbing now. They weren’t going to get anything else useful from them tonight.

“I think we should take them to Deaton’s.” Lydia’s was the voice of reason. “He’ll know what to do with them.”

Scott bit his lip, then nodded in agreement. Scott always trusted Deaton more than the rest of the pack did. 

The pack disbursed. Ethan, Isaac and Scott took the witches to Deaton’s. Ethan and Isaac insisted on physical restraining the witches, leaving Scott to drive.   
The alpha didn’t even glance at Stiles as he walked out the door. 

Lydia and Kira left together nodding at Scott’s order to be careful. Lydia brushed a kiss against Stiles check before she flounced away. Kira just waved. 

Stiles was far too tired to worry about any of it. He was happy enough to collapse against Derek the second the witches were out the door. 

Derek huffed a laugh, then scooped him up bridal style. 

“Hey, buy me a drink a least.”

“Shut up” Derek replied without any anger as he carried the human upstairs. 

Stiles closed his eyes, wrapped up in the wonderful warmth of the werewolf’s arms and didn’t bother to open them again that night.


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles woke up slowly. He was comfortable and warm. He was stiff, but he didn’t hurt. He never woke up pain free, not these days. He stretched leisurely, until he hit something warm and solid. His eyes flew open and his heart jumped. 

Stiles opened his eyes to a strange, semi-dark room, the only light coming in from the space between the blackout curtains. This wasn’t his bed. It wasn’t the couch at his home or Derek’s place. It wasn’t even the spare bedroom. 

It was Derek’s room. Which meant that Derek was the person whose arm was across his chest, the person pulling him tight against his warm chest, the person making his stomach twist in the best of ways.

Jesus, they were spooning. 

Stiles took a couple deep breathes to calm himself before his racing pulse woke the werewolf up. This was fine. This was normal. They had fallen asleep together on the couch before many many times. Once in Stiles’ bed while watching a movie, though Derek had been gone when Stiles woke up. This was just like that.

Only it wasn’t. 

Last night had been crazy. He had gotten swept up in the moment. It was stupid of him to do the spell, stupid and reckless. 

And Derek. Derek had gone crazy too. 

Stiles didn’t want to think about that lost look in the wolf’s eyes as he begged him to stay awake. Instead, he thought about the witches. 

What they claimed made sense, in a weird sort of way. The spells they claimed to have done by themselves were powerful enough, sure, but not malicious, at least not if they weren’t a part of something bigger. Just distracting. Whoever was behind all of this was really trying to divert him, with the ghosts, and the pack with the spells. It was genius.

It had been one week since the last new moon and the last murder. Unless he missed his guess, he had about three weeks until the next one. And the last one, assuming the mastermind was pulling a three-fold death spell, which it seemed like she was. 

He just needed to figure out who it was and why. Great. Should be easy.

He grabbed his phone and flipped in on silent before texting Lydia for Flo’s number. He wanted to talk to her as soon as possible. She seemed the stronger of the two witches and the most likely to help him out, if only to protect Ivy. She was keeping something secret and Stiles was going to figure it out. 

Stiles had to stifle a laugh when Lydia answered almost instantly. Of course, she was already awake. It was Lydia.

8:35 am Lydia-Why would you think I have that number?

8:37 am Stiles-Because you have their phones. Scott gave them to you to have Danny go through.

8:37 am Lydia- Screw you.

8:40 am Lydia- 555-3962

8:40 am Lydia-Scott has both witches on lock down at Deaton’s though. She won’t answer. I’m heading over in a bit. 

8:42 am Stiles- You are the most wonderful thing to ever walk this earth. 

8:43 am Lydia- 😊Don’t ever forget it. Come over next week and swim with me and Kira. 

Derek made a soft noise and Stiles put away the phone. He didn’t want to wake the man. Not when he looked so peaceful in his sleep. He really was beautiful. Stiles absently reached out and laid a hand against his stubble. It was softer then he thought it would be. 

This was nice, laying in be together. If felt safe. It felt right. 

Derek’s eyes fluttered open and focused on Stiles’ face. He smiled one of his rare smiles and Stiles melted. 

He would have kissed Derek right then and there. Swear to God, he would have, that’s how much he liked watching Derek smile.

But Derek picked that moment to wake completely up. He jerked upright and frantically crawled away until he was pressed between the wall and the headboard, hands out as if that would keep Stiles away. 

“Hey!” Stiles shouted as the comfy blankets were ripped off.

“I’m sorry” Derek said frantically. “I should have asked. I was worried about you in the other room. I can hear you heart from there, of course I can, but my wolf. My wolf needed more. It needed to see you safe. ”

“Derek its fine.”

“No, it was wrong. But I wanted to keep pulling the pain so you would sleep. You were in pain last night and I couldn’t stand it. I knew you needed sleep to heal. So I put you with me. I’m sorry.”

“Derek, it’s really fine.” Stiles was become concerned over how upset the wolf was. “I promise. I didn’t think you were going to take advantage of me or anything.”

Derek still looked like he was about to bolt.

“Let just go downstairs and get some breakfast. Do we still have tofu bacon?”

Stiles swung in legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, only to have his knees give out before he could even stand. Derek was at his side in an instant, pulling him back onto the mattress. 

“Whoa.” Stiles said, grinning up stupidly at the face that was spinning above him. “Guess that would be the blood loss.”

Derek didn’t grin. He just picked the younger man up bridal style and walked out of the bedroom. 

“So, is this going to be a thing now? Cause I can’t say I like it. It feels a little emasculating, the whole bridal carry thing. Not that woman can’t be strong but the fact that I can’t carry you back. I mean, I could but not for long. I just think if you're going to carry me, I should be able to do it back” Stiles complained as Derek maneuvered the spiral stairs carefully. 

Derek didn’t answer, just dropped him on the island stools before pulling out the ingredients for pancakes, wearing his grouchy face. 

Pancakes. Now that was one thing that Derek had down pat. He put peanut butter in the batter, and it was amazing, especially if you served it with whip cream, which, of course, Stiles did.

Stiles talked aimlessly while Derek talked, pausing only once to carefully go to the bathroom, before coming back and starting right back where he left off. He was determined to wipe the worried look of the wolf’s face. 

Everything was going to be fine. He didn’t need to stress so much. They caught the witches, or at least part of them. They were closer to answers now than they had been all summer. 

By the time the pancakes were ready, Derek was smiling hesitantly at Stiles story of how he was four wanted a dog so much he followed one home, only to find out it was a coyote and its home was in the woods. It was also the story of Stiles first amber alert, which wasn’t really funny at the time, but now seemed pretty par for the course. 

They had just finished up eating when Derek’s phone went off. He looked at it, frowned, then put it back down.

“What is it?” Stiles whined, “We just got up, what could have possibly gone wrong already?”

“Scott wants me at Deaton’s. We apparently need to have a pack meeting.”

“Well, just drop me off at home and go.”  
\-----  
Derek didn’t drop him off. He dragged him to the clinic with him, much to Stiles frustration. He didn’t want to be there. He had work to do, things to figure out and he needed to be back at his house to do that. 

The rest of the pack was there, standing scattered around the back room, with Ivy and Flo in the center, trapped in some sort of magic circle where they were both sitting on the floor, looking worried. 

Scott frowned at Stiles when he walked in. He stared at Stiles’ wrist that was currently safe in Derek’s grip. Stiles just waved and detached himself from Derek. He hopped up on one of the metal examination tables to watch the disaster unfold. 

Scott glanced at each of his pack mates before starting in. Stiles stifled a laugh over how much Scott looked like a first-time lawyer nervously making a case. 

“As we learned last night, these two witches are responsible for at least part of the problems that have plagued Beacon Hills all summer. I talked with Deaton and he believes them that it may not have been their choice to do so. Many of you don’t agree. Either way, we have to decide what to do with them.”

Stiles stomach dropped. This wasn’t a trial, that had been last night. This was a sentencing. 

“What do you suggest?” Isaac asked.

“We could kill them.” Derek said with a strait face. Stiles was fairly certain he was joking, but Scott didn’t seem so sure. 

“No. Derek we’ve gone over this. No killing.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Hale. No murdering anyone. The true alpha doesn’t like it.”

Stiles saw Flo’s whole-body flinch as her eyes widened as she looked at Derek in horror before getting a hold of her emotions and her face when blank again.

Interesting. 

No one else noticed, because Scott’s fangs dropped and eyes flashed red at Ethan, who responded in kind, his own eyes flashing a dangerous blue and snarling. Scott took a step towards his beta, but Kira stepped in between them. 

“Guy,” she said, “now is not the time.”

“What did you have in mind then Scott?” Lydia asked, not looking up from her phone. Stiles leaned over her shoulder to spy. She was playing Candy Crush. She smirked at him looking and went back to her game.

“Deaton says we can bind their powers and banish them from Beacon Hills forever.”

“Well it sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“I felt like I should ask the pack.”

“Yeah, it would be awful if we didn’t feel like we were in control of our decisions.” Isaac snarled. “Like giving alpha orders for no reason.”

Scott looked at Stiles and growled. Stiles growled back. There was no reason to be a dick to him. He wasn’t the one arguing. He didn’t even want to be here. 

Derek’s eyes glowed blue moved to cover Stiles and, to Stiles surprise, so did Ethan and Isaac. Lydia rolled her eyes and when back to her phone while Kira chewed nervously on her nails. 

Wow, there was a lot of tension in the pack right now. Stiles had suspected things weren’t great after last night, but no seemed content at all. Well, he might as well put in his two cents.

“Well Scott, I think if you are going to make a decision about the citizen of this town you should maybe ask the person in charge. And I don’t mean you. The person I mean is going to be very grumpy if you chase out our only leads for two murders. Maybe you should call him.”

\----  
John got there in about five minutes, but it took Deaton and Lydia about twenty minutes to catch him up in the hall. No one said a word while they waited. When he walked into the room where the rest of the pack was waiting in, he looked every bit of the professional law enforcement officer he was. He crouched down to meet the witches in the eye.

“Alright ladies. Give me one reason I shouldn’t let Scott run you out of town. Cause it seems like you’ve given us all the information you have, according to Deaton and you don’t know who is behind of this any more than we do.”

Ivy promptly burst into tears, wrapping her arms around her knees. 

Flo actually answered. “Because no matter what we might have done, we are still two citizens who have had our shop, and apartment since we lived above it, burned to the ground. I would like to see an investigation, Sheriff.”

Stiles laughed at the woman’s balls. 

His dad shot him a glance that shut him right up. 

“Well, you are right about that. I had a few guys look it over this morning. It was arson.”

“Even if you somehow find a way to charge us with the spell work” Flo sneered at the term. “We still want to stay in town and see who burned our lives to the ground. Plus, there will be insurance issues and if we run, we won’t get anything. We don’t deserve to lose everything just because we were stupid enough to move here.”

“Do you really think the fire was started by anyone other than the person who hired you?” Derek said stone faced, still directly in front of Stiles with his arms crossed.

“You never know.” Kira said thoughtfully. “It could be unrelated.”

The Sheriff looked at her. 

“What?” Kira shrugged. “It could happen.”

“Please.” Ivy finally looked up. “We were happy here. The people here were so nice, they accepted us. No one was ever mean, no one ever said we shouldn’t be together.”

Stiles glanced at the witches interlocked hands and felt a flash of pity. He knew what it was like to be blamed for things you couldn’t control. 

“Please.” She said again. “I can’t go back to Kansas. I can’t go back to pretending I don’t love her.”

Flo wrapped up her partner in a hug as she glared at the pack.

“Why does it have to be either or?” Stiles asked. “Why can’t we bind their powers, for now, until they prove they are on our side, and let them stay?”

Scott looked at him eagerly, clearly happy with that idea, and just for a moment it was like old times. 

The Sheriff nodded. “If we have more questions it would be easier if we knew where they were. Preferable in town, not Kansas.”

Scott’s eyes hardened as he looked back at the hugging witches and the moment of comradery was over. 

“Fine.”

Deaton unlocked a large cabinet and began pulling out ingredients. “You understand, Scott,” purposing leaving everyone else out like the jerk he was “That this isn’t a perfect solution. I can bind them, but someone else could unbind them just as easy.”

“It still seems like the best solution. It seems fair.” Scott looked hard at the women. “We’ll keep a close eye on them.”

“Very well. It won’t take long, but this will only last about a year before the spell begins to unwind. If you chose to keep them bound longer, you’ll have to bring them back. If you can get them to come back once you let them go.”

“If that’s all then. Us ladies have plans today.” Lydia left without a backwards glance. Kira gave Scott a quick kiss before heading out after her. 

Ethan and Isaac exchanged a look, before jumping up onto the table on either side of Stiles. Derek backed up a couple steps until he was leaning against the metal table. Stiles laid his head on Isaac’s shoulder and watched Deaton get to work. 

Stiles yawned as Deaton mixed some herbs together in a wooden bowl, muttering over it quietly. He picked up the bowl and shook the mixture a few times. He entered the circle and dipped his fingers in the mixture, then held it to Flo’s forehead. She gasped, then shuttered. He did the same to Ivy, who finally stopped crying. 

“You may go. I’m sure the Sheriff would be happy to take you to the station to fill out any necessary paperwork.” Deaton wiped off his hands and stood, breaking the circle. 

“I was kind of expecting more than that” Stiles said as the two witches slowly stood, both looking disoriented and dazed. 

“Not all magic is dramatic.” Deaton said. “Speaking of, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Deaton raised his eyebrows and inclined his head at how Stiles was currently laying half across Isaac, his wrist once again safe in Derek’s grip.

“A little tired.” He amended.

“I’m sure. Magic takes a toll, especially on inexperienced users.”

“Go home Stiles. And go to bed, you look awful.” John pointed at the three werewolves as he led the witches out. “And you three, make sure he stays there and stays away from the computer until he sleeps.”

\-----

Stiles had no intention of letting the beta’s stop him from researching the crap out of everything. He needed to get things written down and to get his thoughts organized if he was going to make any headway. He needed to text Flo to meet up still and wanted to check a couple reliable Wiccan websites about how accurate the spell he did was. 

Derek drove them all to Stiles’ house. He acted tired and surly the whole ride, probably from taking Stiles pain all night and not sleeping like he totally should have because Stiles had been fine. He snarled at Isaac’s and Stiles bickering and even growled at Ethan when the beta tried to make a joke.

Stiles knew that Derek would be out in a heartbeat if they put on some Disney. It worked better than a lullaby for a certain sourwolf. Then once he was out, Stiles was casually going to mention running upstairs to change, where he would snag his computer and get to work without any interruptions. Easy. 

Stiles picked Hercules solely because Ethan had never seen it, and that was a crime in and of itself. Isaac grabbed everyone drinks and they settled in, Derek and Stiles cuddled up, with Isaac laying across their laps. Ethan liked his space, he was sitting in front of the couch where he could touch all three of their legs at once. It was their normal puppy pile. God, it was crazy to think that this was his normal now, but it was. 

Derek was out before the Muses even finished their first song. The plan was working perfectly. Stiles was going to head upstairs and get to work. Soon. Just as soon as Derek stopped being so comfortable to lay on and Isaac stopped being so damn warm. 

When Stiles woke up, he was alone. 

Someone had shoved a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. It was dark outside, and the TV had been turned off. He stretched his arms. He was stiff, but not in much pain. The cut on his arm ached more than hurt. He could hear murdering from the dining room, his dad and Derek probably, and stained to listen.

“Are you sure your family never held that property?” his dad was asking.

“I don’t know. I was young. I can ask our family lawyer in New York.”

“Please. I don’t know Derek. I think this might be a dead end but at this point I want to look into everything. If there was a chance the shop belonged to your family, it complicates things. It makes you look like a suspect.”

Stiles figured they were talking about the fire at the coffee shop and froze mid-stretch. His dad was more likely to talk about it if he didn’t know Stiles was listening. 

“He’s awake.” Damn werewolf hearing. Stiles got up and walking to the kitchen, yawning and scratching his stomach. He looked down and noticed was still wearing Derek’s clothes. 

“Nice to see you up.” John said dryly. “Come eat.”

His place was already set. He sat down and dug in. It was some sort of salad. Derek and his dad’s plates were topped with beef, but Stiles was blessedly vegetarian. Stiles made a face at it being salad but figured it was probably good for his dad. The dressing was vinaigrette at least, so that was healthy. 

He took a bite and took it all back. It was delicious and he groaned as he took the first bite. 

“Did you make this? What they hell is it and why haven’t we had it before?” he pointed his fork at Derek before shoveling more in.

Derek flushed pink. “It’s a spinach salad with garlic seared beef tips and a strawberry vinaigrette. I found the recipe while you were sleeping.”

“Oh my God” Stiles continued to eat like a pig because he could. His dad wasn’t exactly pushing it away, he noticed, and Derek had three plates. 

“So,” Stiles started when he was finally full. “What were we talking about? Who used to own the coffee shop?”

“Us.” Derek answered slowly, glancing up at the Sheriff whose face was tight as he avoided the gaze. “Well, the Hale Trust. Or at least that’s what it looks like.”

“What would your family need with a coffee shop? Did you used to run it?”

“No, we never had any business that I know of. Most of our money came from investments and bonds.” 

“Ok, so I’ll find out how it was signed over to Flo and Ivy. Maybe it went to a third party after probate or something. Meanwhile, Dad can find out if there were any cameras who caught anyone coming or going, see if we can get a look at our boss lady setting the fire, if you haven’t already. Seems like a good starting point.”

Derek was watching the Sheriff who was rubbing the back of his head.

“What?” Stiles asked. 

“Son, I don’t think you should be involved in this. After last night,”

Stiles cut him off. “Look dad, I know last night was stupid and reckless. I shouldn’t have done the spell if I didn’t know the full extent of magic. But I’m not going to be doing any more magic. I’m just doing a little digging. That never hurt anyone.”

His dad was staring at the bandages around his wrist. He hadn’t changed them today and a bit of dried blood had started to stain the edges. 

“Stiles.” John started again. “Last time you got involved in werewolf business it didn’t end so well.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there. I saw the damage I did. Why do you think I stayed away from it this long? But, this really is different. Research isn’t what got me possessed.”

John took a deep breathe, face getting red as he tried to keep his temper. “This isn’t up for negotiation.”

“Come on, that’s bullshit.” Stiles felt his face flame up as well. “Derek back me up here. I’m not going to get into any trouble."

“Hey!” The Sheriff barked. “You will not take that tone or use that language in my house.”

“Sorry.” Stiles felt bad instantly and ducked his head. “I didn’t mean it.”

John took a gentler tone at the movement, reaching out to grab his kid’s wrist. “Stiles this is what I mean. You say things, do things without thinking, no matter the cost. Especially if someone you care about is in danger. And I don’t think you can survive doing it again.”

“I’m doing better now though. I’m stronger. I’m running with Ethan and playing lacrosse with Danny. I’m hardly having nightmares and I haven’t taken a sleeping pill in months.” Stiles gestured at the empty plate in front of him. “I’m eating better than ever. I think you might be making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“Yes, and you’re still not up to the weight you should be. Do you even know how bad you were Stiles? At your doctor’s appointment at the end of the school year, you were down to 120 pounds. The doctor wanted to hospitalize you, to put a feeding tube down your throat. He thought your heart was going to give out from the stress. I convinced him to give you a month, a month of summer for you to start eating again and then I was going to let him.”

“Dad.” Stiles’ lip twitched as he tried not to cry. His dad didn’t stop. He was on a role, getting louder with every work until he was shouting. His hand on Stiles arm was getting too tight.

“Do you know that I stayed up every night for months, because I was afraid I was going to wake up and you wouldn’t? Did you know Derek still comes by the nights I work to make sure you keep breathing all night? Melissa was looking for a long-term mental health facility that would admit you against your will, because she didn’t know what else to do. Debbie, at the station, scolded me for hours when you first walked in to work because she thought you had cancer and I hadn’t told her. Cancer Stiles, that’s how bad you looked.”

Stiles felt a hot tear roll down his cheek as he lost his battle. His dad’s voice cracked as he finished. 

“So, don’t tell me I’m overreacting. I’m trying to keep you alive. Because, yeah, your doing better. But I can’t ever let you do that bad again. I can’t.”

“I’m sorry dad.” 

John’s anger fell away, and his eyes welled up as well. He stood up, chair scraping the floor and pulled Stiles into a tight hug. 

“But I can’t not help them. Not when I’m to blame.” John pulled away, looking disappointed in a way Stiles hadn’t seen since he had been lying to him about werewolves.

“How are you to blame?” Derek asked, speaking for the first time. Stiles had almost forgotten he was there. “And don’t you dare say the Nogitsune.”

“OK, then how about Scott. It was my idea to go out in the woods. Its my fault he got bitten. He had to live with that for the rest of his life. And that means everything else it my fault too. Even the Nogitsune. Even Allison.” 

“Stiles, that’s not how life works. You can’t take the blame for everything.” Derek explained as Stiles shook is head in denial. 

“You’re wrong.” 

Derek huffed and turned nasty, all patience for Stiles’ pity party done.

“Peter bit Scott and he was crazy because of Kate. And Kate was because of me, so I guess by your logic, its really all my fault.”

Stiles huffed. If Derek thought the whole Kate and Derek hookup thing was news to him, he would be disappointed. Stiles figured it out a long time ago. 

“No, you were a kid. Kate took advantage of you. Like statutory rape kind of advantage. If she was still alive, I would make sure she was in jail. Or kill her myself.”

“You were a kid too. Kids make mistakes. I don’t think Scott minds the fact that he’s a werewolf.”

“Yeah, but I bet Allison minds being dead. I know Chris Argent minds it.”

“Stiles, that’s enough.” His dad stepped back into the fray at the mention of another kid’s dad. 

“No, its not. It’s never enough and that’s kind of the point.” Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m going to bed. And don’t worry Dad, I’ll still be here in the morning.”

He stomped up the stairs, feeling their disappointed stares on his back. 

\----  
Stiles was too wired after their argument to sleep. His dad just didn’t get it. He didn’t understand-Stiles had to fix this. He had to.

And Stiles had thought Derek would side with him. Derek understood how important it was to keep the pack safe, whatever the cost. 

He wasn’t focused enough to start research, not really. He tried to make a time line, he tried to google information on witches, but the only he figured out was that the spell he had done was legit, albeit apparently hard to do. Huh. 

It took longer than it should have. He just kept getting sidetracked. He ended up wandering his room, pulling stuff off shelves at random. The third time he found himself working on a Rubik’s cube instead of working, he gave up.

He hadn’t taken his Adderall today. He kept some at Derek’s now that he stayed there overnight sometimes, but with the crazy morning they had had he forgot to take it. And if he took it now, he wasn’t going to sleep at all and that would probably freak his dad out. 

He pulled up some Netflix, continuing Hercules from where he had fallen asleep earlier, and scrolled through his phone, sending some texts and catching up on social media.

7:59 pm-Stiles-No swimming for me for a while. Grounded. 

8:02 pm-Lydia-You suck. 

8:08 pm-Hey, its Stiles. You’ll remember me as the person who made sure you didn’t get kicked out of town. I want to meet up and talk to you. Make time.

Flo didn’t answer, but she would. If not, he would find her anyway. But she wasn’t the only person he could talk to about magic.

8:36 pm-Stiles-Did you know what those spells you sent Isaac were?

Stiles turned his attention back to the movie on his laptop, not expecting a quick answer from the hunter, if he got one at all. His phone chirped, to his surprise, and he paused the movie. 

8:40 pm-Chris Argent-Of course I did. 

8:42 pm-Stiles-They were in Greek and French. 

8:47 pm-Chris Argent-The first copies were the originals. The second copies I sent him were translated into English.

8:48 pm-Stiles-Isaac didn’t wait for the second copies. It would have made my life a lot easier.

Stiles debated how hard to push, then figured, fuck it. Chris already hated him, why not make himself a little more unlikable. He was in France, what could he do about it. 

8:50 pm Stiles- Look. I know you didn’t expect us to be able to figure anything out with the spells. You can’t track a spell, that’s not how magic works. So, either it was a test, or you are being deliberately unhelpful. Or you wanted me to bleed out on the floor. 

There was long pause. Stiles finally changed out of his borrowed sweats and into his own PJ’s. He thought about taking a shower to wash off the grimly feeling he had but didn’t quite have the energy. He settled into bed with his novel, leaving the movie on for noise. He heard his dad come upstairs and go to his own room. 

Good. He didn’t want to talk to his dad. 

On a hunch, he stormed over to the window and wrenched it up, sticking his head out and hissing. “Derek, I swear if you are out here creeping on me, I will circle my entire block with mountain ash. And I won’t take it down this time.”

He slammed the window and laid back down, picking his book back up.

9:32 pm-Chris Argent-Isaac caught me up. I’m surprised you could do that spell-I never though any of you would try it. It was never my intention for you to get hurt. But I’m glad you caught the witches, even if they aren’t the masterminds.

Christ was as good of person as any to bounce some ideas of off. And apparently, he was the only person currently talking to Stiles. 

9:34 pm Stiles-I’m missing something here. What’s the motivation? Why Beacon Hills? And why would the Ivy and Flo’s boss risk bringing them here? Wouldn’t it be easier to just to it herself? 

9:36 pm Chris Argent- Beacon Hills attracts evil. Sometimes that’s all there is to it.

Stiles had finished his novel, order the sequel online, and was nearly asleep when he had a thought. He fumbled in the dark for his phone, nearly dropping it on his face as he shot off another text.

10:57 pm-Stiles- What if the spells weren’t distractions at all? What if they were traps? What if the goal was to have the pack spread thin, like we are? What if all she really wants is the pack’s power?

11:03 pm-Chris Argent- Its possible. A true Alpha’s power would be enticing to any sort of supernatural creature. 

Stiles thought back on what he had asked Lydia during the interrogation.

11:05 pm-Stiles-Can werewolf’s do magic?

11:06 pm-Chris Argent- No. Humans are the only ones that really can. Other than Peter’s little spell, I’ve never heard of any creature being successful, and that one only worked because it was designed for werewolves by a bitten wolf. It was a fluke, nothing more. 

11:07 pm-Stiles. I’m stuck here. None of this makes sense.

11:08 pm-Chris Argent-You’re hype- focusing on why. In the end, it doesn’t matter. What matters is who and how to stop her.

11:10 pm-Stiles-I’m going to have to hunt this bitch down aren’t I. The slow boring, human way. Good. I’m going to enjoy it.

11:15 pm-Chris Argent- You would have made a great hunter Stiles. If you ever need a change of pace, come to visit. One year and you would be marvelous. 

\------  
Stiles slept in late, nightmares waking him twice. He would have slept longer, but at noon his dad stuck his head in, already dressed in his uniform.

“So, you’re grounded. No going out for anything. I called you out of work yesterday and today, but you’re expected back Monday. I have doubles all weekend, so don’t cook anything.”

His dad glanced around the mess Stiles’ made with his distractions last night. 

“Clean this up, take a shower for god’s sake, and get some rest. Oh, and I turned off the internet, so no researching.”

Stiles puffed up and made the appropriate arguments of how unfair that was and how he was fine, but in his head, he was already making plans. Like his dad knew how the internet worked. 

Stiles was right. All he had to do was plug the modem back in. It was too easy.

He showered, and dear God the water felt like heaven. It was nice to not stink like sweat and blood. He cleaned up his room, and even straitened up the house and threw in some laundry, just so it would look like he had been crazy busy cleaning. 

He threw on his headphones and got to work.

It took a few hours of digging and a couple phone calls in which he may have pretended to be his dad, but it looked like Derek was right. The Hale Trust had owned the shop before it was signed over to Flo and Ivy, with Laura’s signature on the line.

Laura’s signature. That didn’t make any sense. Laura was long dead by the time the witches had moved to town. 

It was possible that someone was acting as her Power of Attorney without knowing she had died. The police had kept it quiet for a long time and Derek wouldn’t have necessarily known to inform anyone. It could be coincidental. But Stiles doubted it. 

By suppertime, Stiles had figured out that the Hale Trust had been started about seven years ago by Laura Hall, who was the only trustee. Derek or Peter weren’t even listed as beneficiaries.

That matched the timeline. It was right after the fire. A trust was a good idea to protect the family money for her and Derek.

But the lawyers that opened it were out of Los Angeles, not New York. Derek never mentioned spending any time in California after the fire. They had literally run across the country as soon as the funerals were over. 

The law office was closed now, of course, so he couldn’t call them. It had gone bankrupt three years ago. 

It was next to impossible to find out what all the Hale Trust had owned without his dad’s help to subpoena records. And that wasn’t going to happen. Neither was calling Derek. The jerk hadn’t texted him all day. They hadn’t gone this long without talking since the beginning of summer. 

Stiles signed. He was going to have to make an unpleasant phone call to a certain undead werewolf.

He dialed, but Peter didn’t pick up. Big surprise. Oh well, Stiles knew how to play that game. He called every five minutes for the hour that he was baking and eating a frozen lasagna. According to his phone, it was the twelfth time he called that the werewolf finally picked up. 

“To what do I own this pleasure Stiles?” Stiles snorted. He could hear the sneer over the phone and practically feel the impatience. He almost missed Peter. Almost.

“Its not a social call. I need information.”

“I see. And why on earth should I help you?"

“It might save your nephew. I think you own him that.”

“Oh, what has he gotten himself into now? Something unpleasant that he could have avoided if had half a brain?”

And that was why Stiles didn’t miss Peter. He was an ass.

“I’m not sure yet.”

There was a pause, then the sound of a chair being pulled out.

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you know anything about the Hale Trust?”

“Hale Family Trust. And I don’t see how that is any of your business. Unless you’re trying to weasel some money out of my poor nephew. In which case, I wish you the best, but helping you would just be unfair.”

“No. Its about a building in town. The trust used to own it and sold it to some witches a few months ago.”

“We never owned any buildings in town, only acreage on the preserve, plus the house. I had an apartment, but that was in my own name. You would know that if you did any research.”

“I did do research. It’s just not making any sense.”

Stiles ran a hand over his face. He was tired and getting frustrated and Peter was not a calming person to talk to. 

“Well did Laura have a Power of Attorney or someone here in California acting for her while she was in New York? She was trustee, right?”

There was a growl and the sound of crunching plastic. Shit, he forgot how angry Laura made Peter get, even now. Stiles hoped Peter wouldn’t destroy the phone completely until the Stiles got what he needed.

“Yes, Laura was trustee, after the rest died. And no she didn’t have anyone acting for her. She signed the papers that left me in Beacon Hills. She was busy while I was in a coma. She did all kinds of things. She made sure there would be nothing left for me when I woke up. She took everything.”

The speech ended in a howl and a dial tone. Stiles was guessing Peter had thrown the phone at the wall, which felt a little bit like an overreaction, but whatever.

Oh well. Stiles had conformation that the Hale Trust should not have owned the building, at least as far as the Hale family was concerned. It was a start. 

Stiles put away his notebooks before falling in bed, hiding them under a floorboard his father didn’t know was loose, leaving just one out, half covered on his desk, because his dad would never believe that he hadn’t done any researching. It was fine. It was just one that was mostly doodles and the bare minimum about the Hale Trust. 

He was tired. It was too early to go to bed, the sun was just now setting, but the blood loss was still making him feel week. He laid in bed, trying to still his mind.

Hale Family Trust. That’s what Peter had called it. Not the Hale Trust. And he should know. 

Red flags were popping up in Stiles brain. He was about to get his computer back out when he heard a knock on his window, before it opened, and Derek crawled through. 

Stiles sat up on the bed, crossing his arms. He was still angry that he hadn’t stood up for him with his father. Derek knew how important it was to protect the pack. He had thought they were in this together. It felt like they were.

Derek looked tired as he stood awkwardly in front of the window.

“What Derek?” Stiles voice was flat as he realized this was this first real fight. Sure, it seemed like they fought all the time. They bickered and argued, yes, but that was just how they talked. This was an actual fight. They hadn’t texted all day. They always texted on days they didn’t hang out. It twisted something in his stomach, and he scowled.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m heading out of town.”

Panic replaced anger and Stiles frantically kicked over his covers trying to get to his feet. 

“What no! That’s now fair. One little fight and you’re out? That’s bullshit Derek and you know it.”

He managed to stand finally and glared at the wolf. Derek’s eyebrows creased in response. 

“What fight?”

“Our fight! The whole you didn’t text me all day.”

“You didn’t text me either!” Derek’s eyes flashed blue in the growing darkness.

“Yeah well that’s not the point. The point is you don’t get to just run away!”

“Who said running? Scott and I are meeting the Ito pack in Lawrence county. Its only for a few days. Scott has been working on a treaty with them all summer. He has to go as alpha to sign it, and I’m going as his second.”

Stiles took a beat to absorb the information.

“Scott worked out a treaty? Like on his own?”

“Lydia helped but he’s actually good at diplomacy. Other packs like him. We could use allies, especially with this new threat, and the Ito pack is a good start.”

“Congrats on being the second. Officially.” Derek looked pleased. 

“Thanks.”

Stiles sat back down on the bed. He was so tired, but his head wouldn’t stop running over facts. He rubbed his temples as Derek joined him on the edge of the bed, sitting just close enough that their arms were brushing.

“Sorry for not texting.”

Stiles shrugged. “I didn’t even notice. I was busy and got a little.” He made a vague gesture at his head that represented his mess of hyper-focus issues that came with ADHD.

“I wondered. Did you eat at all?”

Stiles nodded. He had slept through breakfast and was too busy for lunch. But supper counted as eating.

Derek’s hand wrapped around his wrist and Stiles melted against him, pulling both of them down onto the pillows. Derek started pulling the pain on reflex and he frowned slightly. 

“You’re still in pain.”

“Just achy. Its normal. Relax.”

Stiles relaxed as the pain faded. Derek smelled like he always did, of safety and the freshness of the wild. He was warm and comfortable. He wondered if he could ask Derek to stay the night, or if that would make things weird. 

“I need to go. Scott wants to leave now, meet them for the first time under the moon. We don’t sign the treaty until tomorrow, and we might stay another night just to bond.” 

Stiles groaned. He had almost been asleep before Derek spoke. Derek laughed at his annoyed expression and Stiles shifted so the wolf could get up, then stood up as well. Derek walked to the window like he was just going to leap out.

“Are you sure this isn’t a trap? The timing is awful convenient.”

Derek grinned slightly at Stiles paranoia. “I trust Satomi. Besides, Scott’s been working on this treaty all summer. It’s not like it just happened. I just wasn’t allowed to tell you.”

“You’re allowed to tell me now?”

“Not really. But I thought you should know since I’m leaving.”

Stiles didn’t like it. Before he would have insisted on coming. As it was now.

“I want to you to text me every five hours. No matter what. Or I’m coming after you, Scott be dammed.”

Derek smiled in that way that Stiles loved and pulled him in for hug. Stiles stiffened. They didn’t usually do hugs. But it had been a rough couple of days. He relaxed and hugged back.

“I wouldn’t expect any different. And you, stay safe. Isaac and Ethan will be around. And its really not far, if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Derek pulled out of the hug, but instead of jumping out the window, he held Stiles’ face in his warm hands. His kissed the teen’s forehead, lips soft. Then he leaped out the window before Stiles could do more than stammer.

“Okay.” Stiles said to himself, trying not to feel too pleased and failing miserably as a wide smile split his face. “I guess that this is a thing now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise things will all start to come together in the next few chapters. If anyone sees any glaring plot holes, please let me know. I'm too close to the project to always tell if something doesn't work or make sense. Thanks for sticking with me and enjoy!


	11. Chapter 11

Derek was true to his word. He texted Stiles about midnight to say they had gotten there. He texted at 5am to say introductions when well and they were going to bed. He promised to check in again at noon.

Stiles did not sleep well. Even though he was exhausted, his mind wouldn’t settle. Every time he drifted off, he lurched awake, new thought in his brain. But if he got up to try to research, his tired eyes wouldn’t focus, and his hands shook until he laid back down. 

When he did manage to sleep, his dreams were filled with blood. Not just Allison but the whole pack was butchered all night long. Ethan and Isaac were missing limbs, trying to drag themselves away from him. Derek had his chest slashed open by some unseen monster, breaths gurgling as he drowned in blood. Scott’s head was cracked open, blood pooling and eyes blank. Lydia’s scream echoed the whole night. 

Stiles hands were covered in blood through it all.

He woke up the second time Derek texted him back at 5am and didn’t try to go back to sleep. He didn’t get up either. He just laid in bed, starting at the wall, feeling blank and dull.

It was a bad day.

Stiles didn’t have many of those anymore, days when getting up was too much, when the feelings of hopelessness made his limbs feel like led. He was glad it was Saturday and he didn’t have to work. He didn’t have to get up and fake anything.

He wished Derek was home. 

Ethan called him to go for a run about 6am. Stiles ignored it. He also ignored Lydia’s text asking if he was still grounded and Kira’s random picture of a kitten that she thought he would like. He just pulled the covers over his head and turned his phone on silent. 

He would have stayed in bed all day. Unfortunately, his dad had a different idea. 

John came in around 8am, already in his uniform. He stared at his son bundled up under all the covers even though it was one of the hottest days of summer. He saw the dull look in Stiles’ eye and signed. 

“Well son. I was going to tell you I was off to do some work, and we could grab lunch later. But, judging by your face, you shouldn’t be left alone.”

Stiles didn’t move and John sighed again.

“Get dressed. You’re coming with me today.”  
\-----  
Stiles drummed his fingers on his knee as he looked out the window, watching buildings go by. He was dog tired, but too wound to sit completely still. His dad glanced him but didn’t say anything. They were in the cruiser, going somewhere. Stiles didn’t ask where. He didn’t think his dad would appreciate it. He should just mind his own business, so no one got hurt. 

They were downtown before Stiles knew it. His dad shut off the car and Stiles went to open his door, but his dad’s hand on his leg stopped him.

“I owe you an apology.” John was looking out the windshield. “Not for what I said. It was all true. I worry about you nonstop, we all do. But, for telling you not to be involved. It wasn’t fair to ask you to just let this go, not when Derek and the rest are involved. Trouble seems to find you no matter what. You might as well be prepared.”

Stiles swallowed hard and shrugged. “Sorry I ran off like a spoiled brat.”

John nodded, accepting the apology. “I want you to feel free to looking into the witches, carefully, if you want to. I just need you to promise me that you will come to me if you find out anything. Don’t try to do anything on your own.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Cause I love you son, and I’m not losing you.”

“Oh daddy-o, it takes a lot to get rid of me.” Stiles grinned stupidly, trying to diffuse the moment. “I’m like a bad penny, I just keep turning up. Speaking of which, why are we at the bank? Neither of us gets paid till next week.”

John opened the door and got out. Stiles followed. They walked towards the brick building with “First Bank of Beacon Hills” written on it.

“We are here to do some unofficial official business regarding the arson at the coffee shop. The official concern of the police, once we had a chance to go over Flo and Ivy’s stories, is that they were involved in something illegal that they are keeping from the cops, which is why someone burned down their shop.” 

Seeing the look on Stiles’ face, his dad continued. “No, we don’t have any official suspects yet. There were no video cameras on that street at all and no one saw anything unusual in the neighborhood.”

“So, you’re looking into their financials.”

John nodded “Both ladies were kind enough to provide their bank records. They admit to receiving cash deposits regularly, but that is perfectly legal, if it’s claimed as income, which it was. But it is suspicious, especially when your shop is burned down.”

“Why don’t you get the cameras from the bank or something? We know the bank has tons of good ones, not like the streets. Whoever is putting money in the accounts has to be on film.”

“It’s more complicated since it’s a bank.” John made a face. “The judge says we don’t have enough proof at this point and it’s too much of a privacy invasion to pull the film without reason.”

“So, my question remains. Why are we here?”

“You remember Angie?”

Stiles nodded, images of a middle-aged woman with short hair who always gave him suckers sprung to mind.

“She’s working today. I’m just going to talk to her, see what she can tell me.”

They walked in and the Sheriff walked over to Angie’s office, leaving Stiles with a quick “don’t get into trouble” look.

It was easy enough to be good. There was nothing for him to do. The bank was still empty except a few employees counting money behind the counter and he wasn’t technically in the way. He played on his phone for a bit, leaning against the front counter, texting Lydia back to say he still couldn’t come over today but he would soon and apologizing to Ethan for blowing him off and begging off running until he had a little more energy. 

His phone chimed and he looked down. It was Flo this time, finally, saying she could meet today around noon to talk. He replied with the meeting place of the library. It was public, with cameras, but unlikely to be busy on a Saturday in the summer. It would be private enough. 

Stiles glanced up to see one of the employees watching his father in the office carefully. 

“Hey.” He called out to the woman. “Do you give suckers out to teens too, or is that a kid only thing?”

She jumped, taking her eyes off the office, and smiled nervously at him. She handed him a cherry lollipop and turned to go back to work.

“I haven’t seen you around here lately.” He stuck the sucker in his mouth. It was a terrible line, but it was all he could think of. She didn’t look too old, maybe early twenties, hopefully it wouldn’t seem too creepy if she thought he was flirting. 

“Yeah I just started a few months ago. I’ve seen you a few times. You’re the sheriff’s kid, right?”

Stiles flashed her a smile and a thumbs up.

“Do you know, umm” Her eyes flickered up at the office yet again. “Do you know what he’s doing here? Does it have anything to do with the coffee shop account?”

Stiles eyes narrowed, but he was careful to keep the suspicion off his face. “Yeah, they are looking into it. He just needed to talk to Angie about getting some information.”

The poor girl looked like she was about to cry. 

“Do you need to talk to my dad?” 

Her lip trembled and she shook her head, glancing at the other teller who was ignoring them to play on her phone.

“I don’t want to get fired. This is my first real job and I really like it.”

“My dad’s not going to get you into trouble.”

She shook her head again. Stiles threw caution to the wind.

“Do you know anything about the woman putting cash into the account?”

The teller let out a little sob. 

“I can’t tell you. I’ll get fired.”

Stiles tried to look sympathetic, not frustrated. “I understand. No one wants you to get in trouble. It’s just that.” Stiles lowered his voice and leaned in. “The police are pretty sure whoever is depositing the money is who burned down the shop.”

The girl gave in. “I don’t know her name. We don’t need the name if they know the account number. She would come in every month with cash.”

It wasn’t new information, but Stiles nodded all the same, appreciating how hard it was for her to tell him. 

“Maybe you can remember what she looked like? Describe it to the cops?”

“I can do better.” The teller walked away and pulled a paper out from a drawer. 

“The very first time she came in, she tried to despite $11,000. When you deposit that much in cash, we have to fill out a form no matter who’s account you’re putting it in. I got a copy of her ID before she freaked out on me for having to fill it out.”

Her hands shook as she handed it to Stiles. It was a black and white ID copy, and a little blurry, but it had a name. “I shouldn’t have kept it. We are suppose to destroy ID’s within 7 days if the deposit doesn’t happen. But she seemed so creepy, I just had to.”

The teller looked at the office again, where John was shaking Angie’s hand as they finished up. “I could get fired for keeping it and I will for sure if anyone finds out I gave it to you.”

Stiles looked her square in the eye. “I promise I won’t tell anyone who gave it to me.” He shoved the paper in his pocket.

“Thank you.”

John motioned for Stiles that it was time to go and they walked out, Stiles hiding a smile while John ran a hand over his face.

“Well that was a bust.” John said, as soon as they got in the car. “Angie wouldn’t tell me a thing.”

Stiles handed him the photo copy with a grin, feeling much better than he had when he woke up this morning. “I had slightly better luck.”

\-----  
John made a copy of the ID and let Stiles keep it but wouldn’t tell him anything else. He gave him a couple bucks for the vending machine and kicked him out his office. 

Stiles bugged Debbie for a bit, while his dad worked. She looked at his stitches with appropriate sympathy while Stiles made up a wild story of how it happened and promised him cookies when he got back. But the phone kept ringing and she had to get back to work. Stiles pulled out his phone, but without Derek to bug, he didn’t have much to do. He idly looked up some new recipes. He was thinking of trying to start reintroducing meat into his diet, and he thought chicken might be easiest. Or maybe fish.

Time passed slowly until it was finally 11:30.

“Hey dad?” Stiles knocked on the open door frame. “I need a ride to the library. I’m meeting some friends.”

“Uh huh.” John didn’t look like he believe him for a second, but he didn’t press. “I’m busy.”

“I can take him.” Deputy Parrish spoke up from his desk. “It would be nice to get away from this paperwork.”

Parrish drove slowly and kept giving him long meaningful looks the whole ride. It was almost noon by the time they arrived and neither man had said a word. Parish opened his mouth as he put the car in park, but Stiles was not in the mood for a speech. He had a witch to interrogate. 

“Thanks for the ride.” Stiles jumped out of the car and ran towards the building while Jordan just shook his head. 

Flo was alone just inside the entrance and waiting for him, arms crossed and a frown on her face as she looked around at all the kids. 

Stiles hit his forehead with his palm. He forgot about the summer reading program. So much for privacy. 

“Let’s take a walk.”

They left the building and walked down the street. It was still sweltering hot and Flo was visibly sweating. Stiles was even feeling a little hot, pulling off his flannel. 

“So, now that you guy’s have stopped casting, how long before the weather gets back to normal?”

Flo gave him a dark look but answered anyway. “I don’t know. We just did as we were told.”

“Great. So, Beacon Hills might just be a in a drought forever. Not to mention my dad says cattle are still dying. Congratulations, you’ve killed the town, but it’s no big deal since you were just following orders.”

Flo stopped walking, looking mad enough to spit. “Look, if you just texted me to make me feel bad, I’m out of here. I don’t need you to make me feel guilty. Your alpha does that enough without any help.”

“Yeah he’s good at that.” Stiles smiled a little at the thought of Scott shaming the witches for their actions. “No, that’s not why I texted. I believe you that you felt like you don’t have a choice. I want to know why you flinched when you found out Derek’s last name was Hale.”

Her expressions stiffened even more. “It was something our boss said when we first tried to get out of our deal. She said ‘Never cross a Hale or you’ll end up dead before you even know you’re bleeding.’ She said it like a threat.”

Stiles mulled it over. Derek was threatening sure, especially around people he didn’t know. But he wasn’t any more dangerous than any other werewolf, unless you counted his scowl. 

He pulled out the picture of the ID “Was this your boss?”

She studied it for a minute. “It’s a bad copy, but yeah, I think so. Maybe.”

Stiles put it back in his pocket. “Last thing and you can scurry back off to wherever your hiding. What do you think she is doing?”

For a long moment, Stiles didn’t think the witch was going to answer. “I’m not sure. She had lots of plans, I think, but she would change her mind all the time. She would have us prep for one spell, then have us do another. I think she might be crazy. And that scares me more than anything.”

It scared Stiles too.  
\-----  
It didn’t take long for Stiles to figure out the ID was fake, even without his dad’s help. Within minutes of sitting down at his computer, he found out that Jane Drake didn’t’ exist before eight months ago. 

He called to tell his dad, who already knew. John admitted that they had even found her apartment, rented with cash, but it seemed to have been empty for a while. He promised to tell Stiles if they got anywhere else, but right now, he had to deal with the ranchers, who still were convinced a person was killing their cows and were ready to take justice into their own hands.

Derek texted a few times, more than Stiles had stipulated. He acted as though he was afraid to ignore Stiles again. Things seemed to be going well for Scott. He had made friends with several members of the Ito pack and their alpha was glad to sign the treaty. Derek wasn’t doing quite as well. He was annoyed by some teenager betas who wouldn’t stop staring at him.

Stiles snorted when he read that. Derek really did not have any idea how attractive he was. 

Since he was currently stuck on the Jane Drake front due to not having a facial recognition program, he wanted to dig into Peter’s finances a little. It bugged him how upset the normal cool and collected Peter had gotten at the mention of the trust.

He didn’t get anywhere, unfortunately, before Issac and Ethan stormed into his bedroom, demanding that they go out for burgers, or in Stiles case, fries, though he did eat an entire chicken nugget he stole from Ethan without throwing up.

It ended up being a nice night. After eating, the beta’s decided to crash out Derek’s place to watch a movie, since he had the biggest TV. Lydia and Kira showed up halfway through. One movie became two, until they had all passed out in a pile. Stiles shot his dad a picture of the sleeping teens, before saying he was spending the night here, and falling asleep.  
\----  
The next day, Stiles got down to business. Time was wasting and he had a mystery to solve. He took an extra Adderall, because there wasn’t anyone around to yell at him for it and pulled up everything he could find on Peter Hale.

It wasn’t much. Stiles basically knew nothing about the werewolf, other than that he was a werewolf, used to be in a coma, and was Derek’s uncle. He didn’t know his birthday, or his social, or his mother’s maiden name. It was hard for him to phish for information without a starting place. After the third hour of getting nothing, he slammed his computer lid with a thud, exasperated beyond belief. 

Stiles sat at his desk for a bit, drumming his fingers and chewing on his pen cap. 

He could call Derek and likely get some of the information from him. But he would still basically just be guessing at passwords for credit cards and bank account. It would take a long time to get anywhere. Plus, he didn’t really want to use Derek like that. He was so private about his life before the fire. It felt wrong to abuse it.

A thought him, and he stood up so fast that he knocked his chair over. He didn’t need to compile any information on Peter. It was already done for him.  
\----  
Getting the file on Peter Hale from his father was harder than he thought it would be, especially since he couldn’t completely explain why he needed it. Peter wasn’t directly linked to the mastermind. It was just a hunch Stiles had. In the end, he had to promise his dad three weeks of red meat with potatoes and no complains to get it. 

But once he did, he went a little crazy, because that’s what he did.

The police had compiled quite the extensive dossier, one that Stiles took advantage of. He made piles in his bedroom of different files based on financials, medically records, and general pre-fire information. He was surprised to know that Peter had once had quite the career going, a lawyer of all thing. That explained a why he was such a good liar. 

He started to feel a little overwhelmed, so he started one of his trusty timeline board, complete with colored stings. His laptop was open to three different sites, one of which was playing music. Plus, he had the TV going, because he couldn’t think if it was quiet, not when he was in the zone.

It wasn’t any surprise he didn’t hear the knock on the door, or the footsteps up the stairs. 

“Stiles?”

Stiles screamed and whirled to face the door, clutching his chest. Melissa, already in her lavender scrubs, was standing in the doorway, looking mildly concerned about the mess of papers piled literally everywhere. 

“I did knock. What’s going on in here?” The nurse picked her way around the piles into the room “Does your dad know about this?”

Stiles remembered his dad saying that Melissa had been worried enough to look into mental ward for him. It was sweet, in a disturbing way. He flashed her a smile that he hoped conveyed how sane he was feeling. 

“Yeah he knows. He said I could. What are you doing here?” He was polite enough not to ask who sent her.

“I told you I would be around check on your stitches. I had some time before night shift.” She shuffled some of the papers around on his desk to make a clear spot. “Sit.”

Shit. Stiles had kinda forgotten to take care of them at all. He had changed the bandages when he showered the other day, but other than that, he had ignored them.

Melissa took his wrist and pulled him into the chair and pealed of the bandage. Stiles was pleased to see that it didn’t look red or swollen. Melissa seemed glad too. 

“You healed fast. These are ready to come out.”

She got out a pair of medical scissors out of her bag and began to snip the treads. It didn’t hurt, but the tugging made Stiles’ nauseated.

He must have paled, because when Melissa glanced up, she immediately when for a distraction. “So, what’s all this? Is it about those poor witches who were made to do magic?”  


Scott must have filled in his mother. 

“Not really but kind of. So, you know how Peter went bat shit crazy and killed Laura? Well Laura’s signature was on all kinds of documents. I mean, all kinds. Medical paperwork, financials, everything. Which you would think makes sense, because she was the only legal functioning adult in the Hale family. Except, what half of what she signed didn’t make sense. Peter was never supposed to be at Beacon Hill’s hospital. He was originally in a private facility near Los Angles. But, about a year after he was admitted, there was change and his funding was pulled. He has to go on public aid, and that’s what put him in the hospital. So, I looked into his financials.”

“Of course you did.” Melissa looked more amused than upset, so Stiles continued. 

“Yep. And guess whose signature was all over the paperwork that basically transferred all of Peter’s asset to a trust. Laura. But it didn’t go to the Hale Family Trust, a trust that had been held by the Hale family for literally a hundred years. No, it when to a new trust called the Hale Trust, one that only Laura had access too.”

Melissa had stopped her work and was watching him thoughtfully.

“So, maybe Laura is just the worst kind of person and just stole from her uncle because she could. But it doesn’t really make sense. What little Derek has told me makes her sound awesome- not mean at all. Plus, she and Derek had just gotten a huge payoff from various insurances. She didn’t need the money. And she wasn’t even in the state to set up the new trust. They were in New York.”

“Are you suggesting that someone, what, stole her identity?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m almost certain. I mean, look at these signatures.”

Stiles held up two forms,one from a check Laura had written the funeral home, the other authorizing Peter’s accounts to be closed. They were nothing alike. The first was full and round, the other cramped and tight.

“It’s a good theory, but handwriting isn’t exactly hard evidence. People’s writing changes as they age.” Melissa took both forms to get a closer look. 

“Yeah, but not this much.”

Stiles hesitated, not sure of how much he wanted to tell the nurse. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. He just didn’t want her to know too much. It could be dangerous.  
Melissa put down the papers and grabbed Stiles’ wrist again, pulling out the remains of the threads.

“That all nice. It’s great that maybe Peter had a reason for going insane. But, what does it have to do with the witches?”

Stiles snorted. Someone had stolen all of Peter’s money, his personal apartment that by all accounts was impressive, and trapped him in a public care ward to receive the lowest of care. He totally got why it made Peter crazy. He thought his alpha had betrayed him in every way. 

“Because, whoever opened the Hale Trust owned the building the coffee shop was in. It was never owned by the Hales, just the new trust. And they held it until it was signed over to the witches. I’m not saying it’s the same person behind all of this, but it probably is. It’s the most logical explanation.”

Melissa finished and slapped a fresh bandage over the scabs, just to be safe. She smiled at Stiles and reached up and ran a hand through his hair.

“You need to tell your dad.”

“That’s my plan. I’m putting together a storyboard, with evidence and everything. I’ll print it all off, since you and I both know he is old school. Oh, you’ll like this, I found this new program online that lets you upload files and it searches for patterns for you. It wasn’t useful for this, like at all, but it might be later. Here let me show you.”

Stiles reached for his laptop, but Melissa wasn’t paying attention. She was looking at the shitty copy of the ID that had gotten pushed under the computer and was now in view.

“Melissa?”

She looked worried and that scared Stiles.

“Where did you get this?” she whispered.

“Ummm from the bank. It’s the person putting money in Ivy and Flo’s accounts, ie, our big bad boss.”

Stiles eyes flickered between Melissa’s face and the paper she had picked up and was holding with trembling hands. He felt a jolt of excitement. 

“Do you know who that is?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, maybe. It looks like a doctor who used to work at the hospital. Her name was Lauren Halls.”

Holy shit, and actual lead.

“Holy shit.”

“Call your dad,” Melissa commanded. 

\----  
His dad was out on patrol, but Stiles was able to get him on his cell, after a couple tries. Melissa was still at his house, alternating between staring at the photo and checking her watch. She was going to be late for her shift.

“What do you mean you have it all figured out?”

“I mean, I think I know who is behind everything!” Stiles was talking very fast and loudly, but he had no doubt that his dad could understand him.

“Stiles.” He could almost picture his dad running a hand over his tired face. “I want to hear what you have to say. I know it has to be important for you to call me, but there is a five-car pile-up that I’m headed to, with casualties. Can I wait until I get off shift?”

Stiles thought for a moment. “Probably.” Lauren would have no idea they were after her. Or, at least, she wouldn’t know that they were just now on to her. Either way, he had done nothing to tip her off. It could wait. 

“Then I will see you just as soon as I get off shift. Don’t do anything stupid. Please.”

Melissa very reluctantly put down the photo. 

“I don’t remember much about her. She was a good doctor, but a little odd. She didn’t do so well with the personal interactions, didn’t have a lot of friends.” She looked sternly at Stiles. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

She squeezed his hand, then left Stiles alone. 

“I never do anything stupid.” Stiles said to an empty room. 

He texted Derek just to say hi, so he wouldn’t worry. Derek had told him earlier that he would be out running for a while and unable to text, so he didn’t think much of it when he didn’t get one back.

Stiles moved most of his paperwork downstairs to spread out in the living room, and to grab a couple energy drinks. His dad wouldn’t be home for hours, which gave him plenty of time to look in to Lauren Halls, which was almost too easy, once he had a name. 

She was in her upper-thirties, thought the most recent picture Stiles could find was nearly ten years old, brunet, and tall, nearly six foot.

Born in Chicago, educated in Los Angles. No family living, no dad and mom pasted a few years ago. She had been on track to be a hotshot doctor in the city, but apparently, according to her med school review board, didn’t have the “temperament” to deal with patient’s emotion needs. That’s how she ended up in Beacon Hills. 

Once here, she did well for a while. Worked in the ER for nearly six years, then, over the course of eight months, had five complaints and was moved to the long-term care ward. Then, nearly seven years ago, just about two months after the new trust would have been formed, she fell off the map.

Since then, there had been no activity for her at all. No credit activity, no apartments rented, no work history. 

“Well, that pretty much seals it.” Stiles muttered to himself as he finished another sugary drink. “Lauren Halls took advantage of a tragedy and stole Laura Hale’s identity when the real Laura was too busy running and grieving to notice.”

Almost certainly for money. She had been drowning in med school dept and working at Beacon Hills hadn’t been the cushy job she had been expecting, and Peter, according to what Stiles had found, had nearly a half million of his own assesses, not counting the apartment. 

It pissed Stiles off. He never liked Peter, but he didn’t deserve what she had done. He thought about letting Peter know the truth, but even as he was dialing, he knew it was a bad idea. Peter was violent and unpredictable. He didn’t need anther wild card. He would tell the wolf after she was caught. 

Stiles was just finishing off printing off the last know residency of Lauren when his dad walked in.

“Hey dad.” 

“Son?” His dad said carefully as he looked around. Stiles glanced as well and grimaced. If his room had been messy when Melissa had walked in, this was a war zone. There were papers spread over every surface, the coffee table, the couch, the floor. In most of the room, the floor wasn’t visible. Scattered among them were pens, stings to help him see patters, and various drink cans. 

“I’m fine. I promise. I just got a little hyper-focused.” That was true. Stiles had been so focused he didn’t even realize several hours had passed. But it was also normal. One of the main calling cards for ADHA was distraction and hyper-focus. It was nothing to worry about.

“I see.” He looked more exasperated than worried now, which was a step in the right direction.

“Dad.” Stiles whined. “That not important. Here just read this.”

His dad moved a pile of folders of his car and opened the report that Stiles had put together for him. The more he read, the closer together his eyebrows got, until he was approaching Derek levels of eyebrow expression. 

“Stiles. This is very impressive.”

“It’s helpful right?”

“I’ll have to have my guys double check some of it, but yeah.” His dad pulled him in for a one-armed hug. 

“Great. Let’s go get her! I’ll get my jacket.”

The exasperated look was back. 

“Son,” he said. “I trusted you to look into this carefully. And you did an amazing job. Now I need you to trust me to do my job and catch her.”

Stiles could think of about a million things wrong with that “But, what if she is dangerous? You could get hurt. I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“Stiles its my job to go after dangerous people. Do you think she is actually a witch or werewolf or anything?”

Stiles shook his head. He was betting on no. She must have figured out about the supernatural at some point, but if she was magic or a were’ her tactics would have been vastly different. She would have worked alone. She was just human. A smart, cruel, evil, crazy human.

“Then don’t worry. The department will be able to handle it. Now, I’m going up to bed, since its” he looked at his watch “Almost seven. Since you were clearly up all night, I guess I’ll call you out of work one more day.”

Stiles shook his head again. “Nah, I’m not tired. I’ll go to work.”

He wasn’t. He was wired on caffeine and the thrill of hunting Lauren down. Plus, since he had apparently researched all night, it was Monday, which meant Derek would be home. He was totally picking up cupcakes and heading over right after work. 

John looked like he was about to argue, then figured there wasn’t any harm. No one would care if Stiles fell asleep sorting paperwork.

“Night.”


	12. Chapter 12

Derek was glad to be back home. The treaty had gone well. It looked like they would be able to rely on the Ito pack now, for information if not in a fight. Scott really was a good alpha and Satomi seemed to like him. 

But he had worried about Stiles the whole time. The texts had been comforting, but it wasn’t the same as seeing and smelling him. 

They had just gotten back to town and it was nearly 10 am. Stiles was at work, but apparently had a ton of information to drop on him, if the excited texts were anything to go by. He was going to swing by after he got off. 

Derek had literally just crawled into bed and was dead tired. He and Scott hadn’t been sleeping much, partially because they spent a lot of time pack bonding under the moon and partially because as much as they wanted to trust Satomi, they weren’t dumb enough to fully rest in a strange territory. 

There was a knock at the door and Derek jolted up. He had been so tired he hadn’t heard anybody walking up the stairs. He hurried downstairs, mentally calculating who in Beacon Hills would be knocking and not just coming in. It couldn’t be Stiles or any of the pack. Maybe Melissa, or hell it could be the landlord, finally here to complain about all the growling.

He opened the door to see a rather tired looking Sheriff standing with two coffees. The officer handed him a drink and walked into the apartment like he owned it.

“Glad to see you back in one piece.”

Derek still couldn’t think of anything to say. It wasn’t like he didn’t spend time with John, but never like this. They hung out at the Sheriff’s house occasionally and talked baseball and about the weather and about Stiles, but John had never come over to his home.

“Is Stiles okay? Is he hurt?” A sudden fear that something terrible had happened to him, something so awful John couldn’t tell him over the phone, hit Derek and he couldn’t breathe.

The blood must have drained from his face, because John was quick to reassure him. “He’s fine. Been busy while you were gone, in fact. That’s why I’m here.”

John got out the dossier Stiles had put together on a woman name Lauren Halls and tossed it on the coffee table, making himself comfortable on the couch, sipping his own coffee. “Read this.”

Derek picked up the rather large file and began to read. It took longer than he would like to get through it all, but he was reading carefully, trying to take it all in.

When he finally finished, he just sat for a moment thinking, drinking his coffee, which frankly wasn’t as good as the ones he used to make at the shop. 

“Do you think this is all true? That Lauren Halls stole Laura’s identity? That she’s our killer?”

John looked thoughtful. “I think its likely. The evidence is solid, if mostly circumstantial. If this were a normal case, I would at least have enough to bring her in for questioning. As it is…”

“We need to find her.”

“I have people out looking. But we aren’t having any better luck finding her than we had tracking down Jane Drake. All her identities are bringing up nothing.”

“You want me to find her.”

John pulled his lips tight. “I would like for you to try. Normal methods haven’t worked, granted we haven’t been looking long, but I don’t want her to have time to kill anyone else or continue to play whatever game she is playing.”

“I would be happy to help.” Derek’s eyebrows creased. “Should I keep this to myself?”

John ran a hand over the back of his head, looking just a little sheepish. “I’m meeting with Scott to catch him up later, so I’m sure the pack will know soon. But if you could avoid telling Stiles you’re looking for her, that would be great. I told him I could handle this.”

Derek didn’t like to keep secrets, but he knew why John wanted to. Neither of them wanted Stiles involved in any of this. “Fine.” he finally said.

John saw himself out and Derek sighed. It was going to be nearly impossible keeping this form the inquiring mind of Stiles. He curled up on the couch, too tired to go back to bed and fell into a restless sleep. 

\------  
Stiles came over after work practically vibrating with energy, carrying a ridiculously huge cupcake and wearing a stupid grin. 

“Hey you,” he said, almost suggestively. “You won’t believe what I found.”

Derek then had to hear him explain everything John had already told him, granted with a lot more expression. 

Stiles got to the end of his speech and was watching Derek expectantly. He should say something. 

“That’s very impressive.”

“Then why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?” Stile crossed his arms, leaning away from Derek on the couch, where he had scooted closer as he talked.

“I just.” Derek sighed. John had asked him not to tell. “I just don’t want you to do something stupid.”

“Why does everyone think that? Literally everyone says the exact same thing.” Hands flailed wildly. “I’m not dumb. I’m not going after Lauren on my own like an idiot. I just want her caught.”

Derek relaxed at hearing Stiles say he wasn’t going after her without a skip in his heart but he didn’t stop frowning. 

Stiles brow furrowed and his scent soured. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you.” Derek crossed the distance between them until their knees were touching, grabbing both of Stiles wrist with his hands. “I’ve always trusted you.”

Stiles expression was difficult to read. His brow was creased, and his mouth was pulled down, but his eyes were bright, hopeful. Derek reached out, running his hand over the slightest hint of stubble that was growing on the younger man’s face and down to those soft pouting lips.

He leaned over slowly, trying not to startle him, until they were a breath apart. “Trust me.”

Stiles was shaking, eyes wide, but not pulling back, and he smelled nervous, but not afraid. Derek closed the distance, pressing his lips against Stiles’. 

It was a soft kiss, gentle, lips moving together slow and kind. It didn’t demand or take. It was everything Derek wanted to show his human, everything he wanted for their future.  


Stiles’ hands came up and wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck. He made a soft noise of pure want and the wolf inside Derek preened. He pressed them tighter together, lips parting slightly. The blood rushed down to his crotch and the need for more hit him heatedly. But before he could do anything more than moan in return, Stiles pulled back, standing suddenly, almost losing his balance in his hurry.

“I’m sorry.” Derek defaulted, feeling both ashamed and a little angry at himself. If he had ruined their friendship over a kiss, he would never forgive himself. 

“No. No, I wanted it. I did but, it’s just that, I’m.” Stiles was stammering as he walked backward towards the door, heart picking up pace with every step. His breathing began to wheeze, and Derek stood as well, worried. 

“Stiles.”

Derek took as step forward as his human sunk to his knees. Stiles threw up one hand out effectively stopping Derek from wrapping him in his safe arms. He was practically gasping now, and Derek was torn between respecting his wishes and obeying his now howling wolf and holding the human close. 

“Stiles breathe.”

He wasn’t breathing. He was panicking, badly, like he hadn’t in months, practically sobbing for air. Derek managed to keep himself several feet away, crouching so they were both eye level. 

“Take a breath. Just one, in then out.”

Stiles coughed, turning a startling shade of red, before finally taking a raspy breath. 

“Good. Now again. Come on, I know you can.” 

It took longer than Derek would have liked, but the panic attack slowed, then stopped. Stiles sat on the floor and Derek took the opportunity to slid just a little closer. Stiles held out his wrist, wanting comfort, and Derek gladly took it, so fucking thankful what whatever contact Stiles could give him.

“I’m fucked up Der.” Stiles finally said. 

Derek longed to tell him all the reasons that wasn’t true. He wanted to tell his human how strong he was, how amazing it was that he survived the possession at all. How proud he was of the progress he had made since the beginning of summer. Derek wanted to tell him how smart he was, how beautiful he was, how perfect. But he knew Stiles wouldn’t believe him, not right now. 

“No. You’re not.”  
\----

Stiles had left right after that, promising to come by the next day. Derek spent a near sleepless night worried that he wouldn’t, that everything they had built all summer would be ruined. When he pulled himself out of bed the next morning to do his perimeter run, he was a mess.

Stiles had texted him a cursory good morning text, but it didn’t include his normal rambling of whatever Wikipedia hole he had gone down the night before. It didn’t even have a smiley face. Derek cussed and left the loft without even grabbing coffee. 

He ran with Scott, who after talking to the Sheriff, finally agreed that the danger was great enough that the buddy system might be a good idea. Derek and Scott would search for Lauren in the mornings and switch off with Isaac and Ethan in the evening. If anyone found anything, they were to call John immediately. 

They found two more dead deer in the preserve, but no scents out of the ordinary. They then walked the town, searching with their noses for any hint of trouble, but found nothing.

It was just like the beginning of summer again and Derek hated it. Despite everything Stiles had figured out, they were no closer to catching their murderer. It was frustrating. 

Derek mused on the beginning of summer as he walked home in the stifling heat, drenched in sweat from searching, thinking of Stiles. He was so glad he had decided to come back to Beacon Hills. Stiles had been such a mess at first, absolutely reeking of depression and anxiety. His human really had come leaps and bounds since then. He wasn’t fine, but he was a lot better. 

If fact, the whole summer had been good, if he didn’t include the murders. He and Stiles had had a lot of fun doing stupid things and all the betas had grown closer. Derek had even enjoyed working at the coffee shop. It never smelled like magic and when he was there, he could almost pretend he was normal. The routine had been satisfying, if a little dull. 

Derek stopped short. The coffee shop had never smelled like magic and the woman had lived above it. The women did, but only if you got close, like really close. In fact, if Derek hadn’t been told they were witches, he might not have noticed it. 

“They were masking their scent.” He said to absolutely no one and took off running.

\----  
Derek ran to the hotel the witches were temporarily staying at. He stalked hall by hall until he found one that smelled like Ivy and Flo. 

He sniffed before he knocked, just to be sure. He was right. They smelled like soap, deodorant, coffee, and only the slightest hint of magic.

He pounded on the door, not stopping until it was wrenched open. Flo stood there looking angry at first, but the blood drained for her face when she saw who it was. 

“How are you covering your scent?” Derek snarled, completely out of patience. 

“It’s, it’s a charm” the witch stammered, trying to shut the door again and failing. 

Derek pushed the door open further. “Show me.” 

She pulled out a small cloth pouch on a chain around her neck from under her shirt. Ivy walked into the room from the bathroom. Flo desperately motioned for her to get back. 

Derek paid her no mind. 

“It’s a harmless charm. They don’t hurt anyone.”

“Did you make your boss one?”

“No.” Lie.

“Liar.” Derek shifted to beta form, pushing completely into the room as the women began to stink of fear, both backing frantically away. He wasn’t sure what his plan was, but he had enough.

“They fade! Oh my God, don’t kill us.” Ivy spoke up from where she was huddled by the bathroom door.

“Explain.”

“We made it for her in the beginning of winter, right when we moved here. It was the first thing she asked us for. We didn’t see the harm. We were wearing them ourselves; we always do, we don’t want to advertise what we are.”

Derek snarled. That wasn’t what he wanted to know.

“Oh Lord please don’t hurt us. The spell fades unless you make improvements to it as the seasons change. We never changed hers. Hers will fade.”

“How. Long.”

“Soon. By the end of the month probably, if not already.”

Derek gave them both a threatening look before he turned and walked out.  
\-----  
The knowledge that Lauren was scent blocking wasn’t great. It meant the werewolves weren’t any better suited to find her than the regular police, at least not until it wore off and who knew when that would be. The Sheriff told them to stop looking, at least for now. They didn’t, of course, but all they could really do was keep up their patrols, hoping to catch a glimpse of her since their noses were no good. 

Flo had apparently called Scott crying after Derek left, claiming that she had no idea the charms were important. If they had known, they would have told the pack. Derek, and the rest of the pack, didn’t believe either witch, but once again, Scott seemed to which put the whole pack on edge.

The only nice thing about the frustrating days of fruitless searching was the fact that Stiles had apparently brushed off the kiss. He never mentioned it and he continued to come over like before. In fact, he seemed pleased with himself to have figured out part of the mystery. His scent was contented and his smile, when he looked at Derek, was genuine. 

They were both at the apartment a few days before the new moon. Stiles was cooking Mexican food and singing tunelessly to the radio. He seemed edgier the longer they went with no sign of Lauren and Derek could feel the pull of the waning moon making him want to pull the pack to him and hunker down until it was over. They were both restless and wanted to be together more than usual. 

Stiles had added chicken to his diet now, though it seemed to make him queasy to handle it raw, so Derek was cutting it up to season for tacos while Stiles worked on the rice. Occasionally, they would catch each other’s gazes and grin. It was stupidly domestic, and Derek loved it. 

“So, when will the boys be done with their patrol?” Stiles asked, burning himself of the edge of the pan and cursing. 

They had invited Isaac and Ethan over after their patrol shift because Stiles wanted to marathon all the Marvel movies before the new one came out. They hadn’t been able to see much of the other betas lately. Too much patrolling the town and too little video game time, the life of a wolf pack. 

Derek checked the time on his phone. They should have been done nearly half an hour ago and assuming they headed strait over to stuff themselves on some pretty good tacos, they should be here now.

“Anytime I would think. They’re done with the run.”

“Huh.” Stiles began pulling out the toppings, chopping cilantro, onion, and lime. “It’s not like them to be late.”

That was true. Ethan maybe, he didn’t have the best grasp of time, but Isaac was always early. He was too afraid he might miss something to be late. Stiles teased him for it, but it wasn’t a bad character trait. It had helped the pack many times. 

Derek took a moment to focus on the pack bonds. He could feel each of them Scott, Kira, Lydia, Isaac, and Ethan, each distant and foggy, so unlike the bright clear threads that had once bound him family together. It was better than nothing, but it wasn’t the same as family ties. 

He could feel Stiles beside him as well. Its wasn’t a pack bond, not exactly. Instead of a thread, it was a beacon of light that lit up his mind and made his wolf prance. He didn’t know what it meant, to feel someone like this, but he liked it. 

He focused on Ethan and Isaac. From Ethan he felt a sort of dull thrumming, like he was rushing somewhere, likely here. From Isaac, he felt pain.

His face must have showed something because when he opened his eyes, Stiles was right there, grabbing his upper arms. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.” He wished the pack was closer, emotionally speaking. He would have known something was wrong much sooner. He might even be able to tell what was wrong. “Isaac. Something not right.”

As soon as he said it, the loft door was jerked open and the smell of blood filled the room.

Ethan was half carrying, half dragging Isaac. Derek ran to help him as he scented the air for danger, hoping they weren’t followed.

“Shit.” Stiles was fast, clearing the mess from the table and grabbing towels to sop up the blood. “Put him here. What the hell happened?”

“I’m not sure.” Ethan was relatively un-phased as he laid the limp beta down. His time with the Alpha pack had left him slightly desensitized to violence. “We split up when we hit town, but we were never far apart, I didn’t think. He missed a check point. I backtracked and found him unconscious on the ground, bleeding.”

Stiles continued to put pressure on the wounds across Isaac’s chest, looking pale. Derek gingerly lifted the towel to see the wound. It was healing, just a little slower than normal. 

“Did you see anything weird? What did you smell?” Derek asked,

“Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, I didn’t really search. I just picked him up and ran.”

“Should we be calling Deaton? Melissa?” Stiles was looking even worse, staring at the blood on his hands and he pushed down hard on the gashes.

Derek wanted to comfort him, but he needed to take care of their safety first. He settled for what he hoped was an intense comforting look. “He’s healing. Slower than usual, but he’ll be fine.” 

Stiles swallowed hard and nodded. As if on cue, Isaac moaned, shaking his head as though to clear it. Derek put a hand on his forehead to still him while simultaneously pulling his pain, pulling out his phone to call Scott. 

Scott had Kira with him. They agreed to swing by where Isaac was found before heading over. Lydia was going to be pissed she was missing this, but there was no one to go pick her up right now and she shouldn’t be driving alone. It was times like this Derek missed having a large pack. They needed more wolves. 

Isaac woke quickly, though they made him stay still for a bit to heal. By the time he could sit up, he was wounds were just scabs, and Derek couldn’t feel any more pain for him to pull. Derek wouldn’t let them talk until Scott go there, so Derek brought Isaac a coke to help with blood loss. Scott arrived, Kira in tow and the questions started. 

“What happened?” Isaac asked. 

Derek frowned and exchanged a look with Scott. “We were hoping you could tell us.”

“Nothing to explain. I was walking down Oak Dr. I could hear Ethan a few streets over. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then, out of nowhere, something cut my side” he pointed to the worst of the now faded wounds. “Then everything went really bright then dark.”

“So, whatever it was it was strong and fast. Isaac’s a good fighter.” Kira said. 

That was true. Isaac had always had some of the best control and was good at using his strength to his advantage. But whoever had attacked him must not have been very skilled, just sneaky. They had had plenty of time, but none of the wounds were even close fatal. They had bled a lot, but none were in life threatening places, a basic mistake.

“Did you notice anything at the site? Any unusual scents?” Derek asked, not hopeful.

“Nope.” Scott said. “Not a thing. But it had to be Lauren, right?”

“Yea. I just don’t see how.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly tired. They should all get out there, tracking, but no one wanted to leave a wounded packmate alone. Besides, there didn’t seem to be much of a trail. 

Derek felt, more than heard, a soft mew coming from the wall and with it, he felt a wave of guilt as he turned to face it.

“Shit.” 

In the fuss over Isaac, Derek had forgotten about Stiles, who was currently pressed flat against the wall like he could disappear, chalk white and staring at his bloody hands. He was making soft, pathetic noises but didn’t seem to notice it. His eyes were distant, and Derek knew this wasn’t good.

“Is he OK?” Scott sounded genuinely concerned, taking a step towards his trembling ex-best friend. 

Derek snarled and Scott took a step back as Derek stormed forwards, putting himself directly in Stiles eye line and blocking everyone else. Stiles didn’t even blink.

“Fuck.” Derek swore quietly at the blank look in his eye. “Isaac go take a shower, grab some of my stuff to put on. Ethan, clean the blood of the table. Use bleach.” 

It felt like he was always cleaning blood up this summer. The betas moved to obey, Isaac clapping Derek on the shoulder before leaving the room.

“What’s wrong with him?” Scott demanded.

“He fucking has anxiety, depression, insomnia and probably PTSD related flashbacks from being possessed and used as a murder machine. What, did you think he would just brush it off? He would be free of the pack and he would be free of this?”

“No! I just, I didn’t know it was like this. This bad.”

He wasn’t lying, he really didn’t understand how bad off Stiles was, but Derek didn’t care. Scott was alpha. He should have known. He should have made it his business to know, to fix his friend, not kick him out. 

Stiles shuttered. “No, please.” He moaned and his heart beat just a little bit faster, fast enough Derek was worried. 

“Scott, lets go.” Kira said, tugging on Scott, looking uncomfortable. “We need to go fill in Lydia.”

They left, Scott very reluctantly and casting an almost longing look behind at Stiles as they shut the door. Derek began his gentle cooing, trying to calm Stiles, trying to bring him back, but he knew from experience that if it was this bad, nothing but time was going to bring him out. He hovered, but didn’t touch, assuring him over and over that what he was seeing wasn’t real, that he was safe, that Derek was right here. 

Isaac and Ethan were done cleaning up by the time Stiles had stopped shaking. He wasn’t responding to Derek, but he was tracking him with his eyes, a big improvement. 

“Mind if we crash here tonight?” Isaac asked. Derek risked looking away from Stiles to glance at the beta. He was pale, but his bare chest didn’t even show any scars. 

“Yeah. Your old room is still made up. It will smell like Stiles, but tough.”

“What doesn’t?” Ethan sounded fond, as he made himself comfortable on the couch. “You have your hands full. I’ll watch the door.”

Derek nodded his thanks.

“Come on.” He said, holding a hand out to Stiles. “Let’s get you cleaned up too.” 

Stiles looked at the outstretched hand for a long moment before gingerly taking it, interlocking their fingers as he obediently trailed behind Derek up the stairs. 

\----  
Derek wanted Stiles to shower, but he wasn’t confident his human would manage to stay upright long enough. He was swaying as it was. He settled for stripping of both their shirts and Stiles pants. He sat Stiles on the edge of the tomb and began scrubbing him. Most of the blood had been on his hands anyway.

The water ran pink down the drain. Stiles gagged, then retched, stomach bile following the blood down the drain. 

Derek rubbed circles around his back, waiting for it to pass. 

“Is he okay?” Isaac asked from his room.

“He’s alright. Just coming out of it.” Derek sighed. “You have got to stop throwing up in my bathrooms. Its hard to get that smell out.”

Stiles surprised him by snorting in amusement. Derek smiled and began to towel him off as Stiles leaned against him nearly boneless. 

“Let’s go to bed.”

Derek put Stiles in his bed again. There was no way he wouldn’t, not after today. Lauren was out there attacking people and Stiles’ brain had attacked him tonight. It had been a long day and he wanted Stiles beside him.

Unlike last time they had shared a bed, Stiles didn’t fall right asleep. His heart was calm though, and Derek drifted in and out of sleep, comforted by the sound. 

It had to be after midnight when Stiles finally spoke to the darkness of the room, his back nestled in Derek’s arms that were holding but not restricting. 

“It could have been you.”

It took Derek a long moment to wake up enough to understand what Stiles was saying. 

“Isaac healed just fine. I would have to.”

“Yeah.” 

Stiles breathing was regular in the calmness of the dark bedroom. Derek had hoped he had fallen asleep when he spoke again, sounding flat and cold. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Derek’s mind jumped into overdrive as his heart beat frantically in his chest. ‘This’ could mean a lot of things. He might not want to hang out with a pack of wolves that are constantly getting hurt, getting hurt himself and always being covered in blood. He might not want to hang out with Derek anymore. That was fine. 

As long as he didn’t mean he didn’t want to live anymore. Jesus, he couldn’t mean that. 

Stiles turned over to face him while Derek was fighting to remain calm, to think of something to say to keep Stiles safe in his arms. He caught Stiles gaze and tried to show him how earnest he was.

“Whatever you want, I’ll help you.”

Derek relaxed as Stiles scent became less acidic and more tranquil, edging on happy. He could just make out his teeth shinning bright in the dark as he smiled softly. Then Stiles closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Derek’s.

This kiss was nothing like the first. It was bittersweet chocolate, soft rain that turned to ice on a cold day, a childhood smell that couldn’t quite be remembered but twisted the stomach, nevertheless. It demanded notice, it screamed for attention. It made Derek want more.

Their lips parted and Stiles’ tongue licked his lips, making Derek moan, then pull their bodies tighter together until all he could feel was the burning heat of his human, hands roaming and lips hungry. 

They broke apart to gasp for air and Stiles rolled away slightly. Derek shifted, trying to cover his bulge with the sheet and failing, not that the human could see in the dark anyway.

“That was amazing.” Stiles sounded breathless.

“Are you sure?” Derek asked. He could still walk away. He could still let Stiles go. But, if this when any father, he wouldn’t be able to. “Is this what you want?”

Stiles smiled again. “It’s what I’ve wanted since I saw you in the supermarket after you got back. Hell, probably since I first met you. I just was afraid of hurting you. You never cared how crazy I was, how fucked up my mind was. For God’s sake, you held my head as I puked today. You’re amazing and you get me. You know what I need before I even do. I can’t lose you.”

Stiles’ brow furrowed slightly as Derek didn’t reply. “You still want this, right?”

Derek response was another kiss, much lighter this time but it left both of them panting all the same.

He was the happiest he could remember being for a long time. He felt complete, he and his wolf completely in harmony. Stiles snuggled in close to him, throwing an arm across his chest. 

“I can’t lose you either.”

Stiles wrapped their fingers together and they drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments! I appreciate every one of them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few chapters left! Things are really starting to pick up.

Stiles was a mess of nerves and anxiety constantly wrapping around his chest and slowly suffocating him as the new moon drifted closer. He was afraid for the pack, afraid for his dad, afraid for himself.

He spent his days illegally hacking into security cameras looking for any trace of Lauren and trying not to let anyone see what a mess he was, until he dad caught him and made him stop.

Even though he was dreading the new moon and the horror it would bring, he was so fucking happy. He had Derek now and it was wonderful in every way. They cooked together, they shopped together, they watched movies curled up on the couch. It really wasn’t that different from how the rest of summer had been. They had always spent a lot of time together doing a lot of the same kinds of things. But now that time wasn’t filled with stilled touches and longing glances that Stiles pretended not to notice. It was filled with hugging and cuddling and oh so much kissing. 

It hadn’t gotten much further than kissing. A little light petting that may or may not have made Stiles come in his pants like a fifteen-year-old, but no further. Stiles wasn’t ready for that. His thoughts still got too foggy and he was scared of getting lost in his head and freaking out on Derek again. He wanted to make sure that when they finally did it, he was mentally stable and fully focused. They both deserved that.

Derek didn’t mind, because he was amazing. When Stile said he wanted to go slow, Derek’s hands hot on his hips and both of them straining in their jeans, Derek had shrugged.

“I waited three months just to kiss you. I can wait as long as you need for anything else.”

Then Derek held his face between his palms, looking at him like he was something precious and it was perfect. 

\----  
“This sucks,” Stiles moaned to Kira, flopping over her lap as they sat on the couch. Lydia had long stopped listening to his whining, but Kira had endless patience for Stiles brattiness. He suspected it was because of the guilt over how she had abandoned him with everyone else, but he would take it.

“It’s just for tonight. Then the new moon will be over and we can go back to our lives.”

Stiles and Lydia were safety tucked away at Stiles’ house, currently one of the most magically protected places in town, with Kira as their bodyguard. He had his trusty bat out again, even though he really didn’t want to use it, like ever again. He knew Lydia also had a small 22 tucked away in her purse. Kira had her sword and knew how to use it. They were as safe as possible, given that they were in Beacon Hills. 

Derek, Isaac and Ethan were out patrolling the city. Scott was with his dad. He would have preferred Derek with the Sheriff, but Scott said the alpha needed to be with “the law” to keep there from being any communicating problems when they found Lauren. 

Stiles didn’t like it. He knew Scott wouldn’t let anything hurt the Sheriff on purpose, even if he hated Stiles. The man meant too much to him as well, but even though Scott was the alpha, Derek was a better fighter and it should have been him standing beside the officers. 

Stiles stood and began pacing. He hated being stuck here, hated not being able to help. He stopped at the window, looking out at the gathering darkness. 

The sun had just begun to set. They were in for a long night. Heat lightening flashed in the distance and the air felt humid, oppressive, and heavy but there was still no smell of rain in the air. Something was brewing and Stiles didn’t want to know what. He just wanted this night over.

His hands itched for his phone. He wanted to call Derek, just to check in, but he didn’t want to distract him. The betas had enough to worry about without Stiles adding to it.

“Come sit down.” Lydia was impatient and nervous as well, though she was hiding it much better. She sat on the couch, aggressively filing her nails and complexion only slightly less luminous than its normal glow. Stiles begrudgingly obeyed, trying to focus on the movie. It worked for about 10 minutes, then Stiles was back up pacing. 

After watching Stiles twitch for a while, Lydia signed then got out her massive purse and made him help her organize it. He was arranging her credit cards in alphabetical order when a sudden pounding noise came from all around the house and making all of them jump.

“What on Earth?” Kira asked, getting up and facing the door, sword in hand. 

“That’s rain.” Lydia said, and they all raced to the window to check. 

Sure enough, it was raining. Well, not raining. It was absolutely poring. Like, can’t see the road from the house, cars slide off roads, and mudslides happen kind of rain.

“Guess that’s the end of the drought.” Stiles said with a shrug trying to look unworried and probably failing. It was a lot of rain. It was going to cause flooding and all kinds of trouble for the pack. It would wash away scents, make it hard to see, and the lightening and thunder would distort their heightened senses. No way this was a coincidental-it had to be magic. If it was Flo and Ivy, Stiles would kill them. 

Nerves shot and jumping at every clap of thunder, Stiles tried to focus on anything but the danger that Derek was in. He fumbled with his phone a bit, and he moved his bat around the room like twelve times. The movie played on, but no one was watching. Lydia got out a few of the reference books for the supernatural that she apparently carried with her.

“Maybe there is something in here. Maybe we can help.” They all opened a book, but, just like all summer, there wasn’t much they could do. Lydia threatened to call his dad if he Stiles tried the tracking spell again. Stiles was about to give up and leave, go to try and find Derek by himself consequences be damned, when his cell rang, making him jump. 

Stiles fumbled to get it, but before he could, his house phone began to ring as well. Derek’s name flashed on the cell’s screen. He made a face, answering his cell and motioning for Lydia to get the landline. 

“Derek?” he asked worriedly but all he heard on the other end was static. He looked nervously at Lydia, who was saying something on the landline. 

“What’s wrong?” he tried again but still nothing. Lydia hung up the house phone with a slam.

“Fuck.” He hung up the dead line. “Who was on the phone? What did they say?”

Lydia shook her head. “It sounded like Scott, but I couldn’t understand him. Something about it not being safe, or us being safe then it went dead.”

Kira chewed her thumbnail nervously, other hand clenching her sword tightly. “Should we do something?”

Stiles shook his head. “This house is as safe as it can be. Nothing else to be done.” Still, he tried to call Derek twice more, both going straight to voicemail.

They sat in silence, the kind of silence that dragged Stiles down and made him despair that everyone was coming out of this night alive. Lydia called Scott and got no answer, so she was texting the pack, asking anyone who was out there for an update.

He watched idly as the lights in the room dimmed down to almost nothing. A brownout, his mind supplied. Great, just what they needed. 

Then, the lights flashed to maximum brightness, before shattering, raining glass on them. A deafening noise came from outside, and the living room wall collapsed, raining down debris everywhere. Stiles grabbed Lydia and pulled her against his body, covering her face the best he could. Kira screeched a few feet away, but Stiles knew she healed quickly and didn’t dare look up. 

Sure enough, when it quieted and he and Lydia looked around the now dark room Kira was wiping blood from her head, but there were no scratches. Stiles had a few, mostly on his hands, but nothing that would cause a problem. 

“What in the shit was that?” Lydia asked, not pulling away from Stiles grasp. Kira, surprisingly calm, went and peered out the gaping hole in the house, heedless of the rain that was soaking her. 

“Lightening hit the tree. It’s completely split.” Well that explained why she was so calm. Kira controlled electricity. This was probably like a powerup for her or something. “Looks like the whole street is out but the power lines feel funny. Something is going on with the grid.”

Stiles had a very bad feeling. He felt like this was a trap, but to keep them here or to make them leave, he couldn’t tell. He could hardly think through the panic but forced himself to breathe. This wasn’t the time to be weak. 

“Can either of you feel anything from the pack bonds? Derek could tell when Isaac got hurt.”

Kira shook her head, but Lydia got that far off look she had when her powers were acting up.

“There is something. I just, I can’t tell what. It feels like something is wrong.”

“Do you want to scream?”

“No. I just want to run.”

“Yeah.” Stiles looked out at the screaming winds and relentless rain destroying his living room. “Me too.” 

He had no idea if this was part of the spell, if it was the weather, or if he was playing right into Lauren’s hands, but he wasn’t going to sit here and wait. The mountain ash that he had surrounded the house with had to have been washed away by now. The ruins carved into the house had been disturbed by the giant fucking limb in his living room.

“Nope.” Stiles said. “Fuck this. We aren’t staying here.” 

They piled into the jeep, driving impossibly slowly as the wiper blades tried and failed to make a difference in the downpour.

“You know this is the worst possible thing to do in a storm,” Lydia said, white knuckling it in the front seat.

“Really?” Stiles sarcastically replied, no humor in the words. “I must have missed that in the what to do when there is an evil villain you know nothing about coming after you with magic and who knows what the hell else. I’ll keep it in mind next time.” 

He wretched the wheel to the side suddenly, barely missing a falling branch. 

“Where are we even going?” Kira sounded a little hysterical and if Stiles had the time, he would be worried about her. 

“The loft. It’s as safe, magically, as my house and easier to defend.” It only had the one entrance to guard. It was also the rendezvous place for the pack, should anything happen. They should have stayed there in the first place, but Derek wanted it free in case they caught Lauren and need a place to hold her. Deaton had made the same kind of magic circle he held the witches in there, but Derek didn’t want to risk having the humans there, just in case. 

The drive seemed to take forever, but really it was only a bit longer than normal. The storm had settled down to just raining with occasional thunder instead of the downpour and Stiles could almost see clearly. The power was still on downtown, and they could see people frantically scrambling for shelter. They parked right by the loft’s entrance and got out.  


He opened the door was holding it for the girls, when he though he saw a figure running desperately towards him in the rain.

“Derek?” he called out, hoping more than believing it was, letting the door shut behind Kira and taking a step forward.

Before he could get a clear look at the person, they looked small, too small for a werewolf, another figure came flying up behind them, knocking them both off the street into the darkness of the alley.

Stiles didn’t think, he just took off running, ignoring the cries behind him as the girls opened the door and stepped back into the rain. He didn’t even have his bat. It was still in the jeep. 

He got to the alley just in time to see a woman stand up from the crumpled bleeding figure, who also seemed to be a woman. Lightening flashed and Stiles saw second woman’s face.

“Lauren?”

She looked surprised, then delighted. 

“You fucking figured it out. I knew you would if I didn’t take care of you. You were always my wild card.” 

“Hey.” A shot rang out, making Stiles duck and whirl around, to see Kira and Lydia standing at the mouth of the alley. Lydia had her gun out and aimed, apparently having fired off a warning round. At least, Stiles hoped she had missed on purpose.

The woman didn’t flinch. 

“Cute.” She sneered. She dropped a knife dripping with what had to be the poor girl on the ground’s blood and pulled something out of her bag and threw it at them. Stiles ran towards it, to kick it or something stupid, but didn’t make it in time.

There was a ridiculously loud popping noise, then a flash like nothing Stiles had ever seen. He fell against the wall of the building, completely blind and disoriented. 

“Was that a fucking flash grenade?” Lydia sounded pissed and distant over the ringing in his ears. Stiles crawled toward the voice, hopping the girls had fared better than they had. He needed to call his dad. He needed Derek. 

A hard kick had him flipping from his stomach to his back, then there was a heavy pressure on his neck. He was been strangled before and he knew that was exactly what was happening here again. 

“You weren’t supposed to survive your possession. Then, I thought for sure you would off yourself, save me the trouble, but you didn’t. So, I decided to give you a little incentive. Did you like your visitors?”

Stiles made an enraged noise that came out as a whine because of the hands on his throat. 

“I fucked up the spell a little. You aren’t supposed to be able to go back and forth. You’re supposed to stay with your ghosts and your little body will waste away to nothing. But people keep calling you back. Not this time though. They’ll be as dead as you.”

Stiles flailed upwards blindly, hoping to hit her face. He wouldn’t let her hurt the girls. No one was hurting them. 

His hands were gripped and wrenched above his head, but the pressure on his neck lifted. Lauren wasn’t strong enough to do both. He gasped for air, wondering if the girls were smart enough to have run wishing his eyes would work again, hoping the white haze wasn’t permanent.

“Why?” he gasped out, too weak to stop the hands that were now touching every part of his body. Gross.

“Awww, sweetie. You know I needed what Derek took from me. That’s why you’ve kept him so close. Not now though. I’ve got your phone now and you’re sending him a text to meet where this all started. And I finally get my birthright. I’ll be an alpha again.”

Holy shit, she was crazy. She was so crazy. She actually thought she was Hale and that Derek was still an alpha. This was so bad. 

There was a dull thud, then Lauren was just gone. He thought it might have been Kira who pulled her off, but he couldn’t be sure. There were sounds of fighting, and someone pulled him upright.

“You’re fine. We’re fine. Come on, we have to go.” It was Lydia hissing in his ear, so Kira was fighting Lauren then. Lydia shuffled them along so slowly that Stiles knew she wasn’t seeing right either. They needed help. 

There was a scream that had both of them turning, though all Stiles could see was a bright sort of blur coming at him. He felt an awful pain in his head as he dropped to the ground, Lydia’s scream echoing in his ears. 

\------  
Stiles vision came back, but he didn’t see the dirty wet alley. He saw trees thrashing in the wind, rain pelting the forest floor as lightning flashed overheard. It was cold, colder than it had been all summer, like it was February again.

“Seriously?” he yelled at the trees, his voice barely able to be heard over the wind. “I don’t have fucking time for this.”

“Make time.” Came the sharp reply, as he was roughly shoved against one of the tree trunks.

“Mrs. Argent?” That didn’t make any sense. Victoria Argent had never had any love for him. “What are you doing here?”

“Think Stiles? Who should be next?” Victoria looked angry, like she always had when she was alive, and Stiles was very glad she didn’t have any weapons.

“Allison.”

“Exactly. If you think for a second that I’m going to let you pull my daughter out of the afterlife and into this spell world, you have another thing coming.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose!”

Victoria didn’t look impressed. “You’re lying.” She shoved him against the tree just a bit harder, the bark cutting into his back and making his head hurt.

“I’m not,” he insisted, even as he began to doubt himself. Lauren had said the spell wasn’t supposed to work like this. Maybe he was controlling who he saw. 

“It doesn’t matter. Either way, you’re going to put a stop to it. Kill the bitch and end the spell. Before you trap anyone else.”

“I’m trapping people?” Stiles heart lept to his throat. His mom, Heather, Tara, even Erica. Were they all trapped here in this endless woods? “How do I get them out? I have to get them out!”

“Go back Stiles. Go back and end this.”

Lightening stuck the tree above them, and Stiles flinched and ducked his head, trying to twist away. When he looked up again, he was lying on the wet pavement.  
\------  
His head throbbed and when he reached up to rub it, his hand came away bloody. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, because he noticed Lydia lying motionless a few feet away.

“No, no, please. Lydia?” he crawled to her and shook her desperately. “Lydia, wake up.”

She didn’t wake, but she did moan. She was alive. 

“Stiles?” Kira came limping slowly towards him. “I saw you go down. Are you okay?” 

She noticed Lydia in his arms. “Oh my god, is she alright?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles was having hard time focusing his vision swimming in and out of focus. “She’s breathing. She’s alive. We need to get her upstairs.”

It wasn’t easy and it took too long but together they were able to carry Lydia between them and up to the loft. They had to stop several times when the world tilted too much for Stiles to walk, or when Kira needed to catch her breath.

Kira was worse off than Stiles had thought. She was seriously favoring her left leg to the point she was barely putting weight on it. She had several deep gashes in her stomach that she had a hand wrapped around. They didn’t seem to be healing anywhere near quick enough. She also had a wicked cut on her face, from her temple and back to her hairline that was bleeding heavily. 

Lydia seemed to have gotten away a decent lump on the back of her head, but she still wasn’t waking up. 

They put Lydia on the couch and Stiles ran and got some towels for Kira, who began to bandage herself up. 

“Its not that bad.” She said, hissing as she wrapped a strip of towel around her stomach. “She had some sort of weird knife. It’s healing, just slowly for some reason.”

Stiles grabbed Lydia’s cell phone out of her pocket, having lost his own to Lauren. He called Derek’s cell, and predictably got no answer. He tried the rest of the pack’s, then his dad’s but they all when to voicemail. 

“The storm knocked out the towers. Cells can’t get signal. It’s probably not even ringing on their ends.” Lydia’s voice was slurred, but confident from the couch where she was still laying limply. Stiles smiled, thankful that she was finally awake. She had been out way too long. He started rubbing her arm comfortingly as she grimaced, clutching her head. 

Cell phones weren’t working. Neither were cells to landlines; Scott’s call had proven that. Stiles thought for a moment, then raced to the kitchen, where the house phone that Stiles had made Derek install just a few days ago was located.

Landlines were one thing that the Sheriff insisted on and he encouraged everyone who would listen to have one as well. He said that in an emergency they were the only way to guarantee that the police could find you. Cell’s couldn’t be traced the same way and Stiles was paranoid enough to put one in the loft.

“Hello?” Melissa picked up on the first ring. She had been on call for the pack, asking for the night off from work. Thank God that she had listen to his father’s rants and kept her landline as well, despite the cost.

“Melissa its Stiles. We’re at the loft and Lydia is hurt. We need you here, now.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I’m not sure. She got hit in the head and wouldn’t wake up. She finally did, but she’s all slurry.”

“Probably a concussion. If she passes back out, call 911. I’m on my way.” 

Melissa was seriously the best. He was going to bake her all the cookies as soon as this was over. Assuming his house was still standing. Assuming they all lived. 

“What happened?” Lydia asked, trying to sit up and failing. 

“Lauren killed her final victim.” The spell, whatever she was trying to do, was done. 

“What do we do?” Kira asked, face pale and hand shaking where they still held her sword. Stiles didn’t answer her, mind going a mile a minute. 

She was headed to where it all started. Of course, she fucking was. She was going to trap Derek at the Hale house. And Stiles couldn’t let any of the pack know what was going on because the fucking phones didn’t work.

No. Stiles made up his mind. No one was hurting his pack. No one was hurting Derek. 

“You’re staying here until Melissa gets here.” Kira looked unsure, so Stiles pushed harder. “Even hurt, you’re a better fighter than me. I’ll go find the others, tell them what’s going on. You keep Lydia safe.”

“Don’t you dare Stiles. Don’t you go out there. They’re werewolves, you’re not. They’ll be fine.” Lydia looked angry, but Stiles knew her well enough to know it was fear. He leaned down, kissing her gently on the forehead. 

“I’ll see you both soon.”  
\-----  
Stiles drove like a madman, headless of the rain that was still falling. Parts of the road were flooded, and he skidded several times but never slowed.

He had stolen Lydia’s phone. He constantly called the pack over and over, not taking the time to leave messages but never getting through. 

He was nearly at the house when he had a thought. He had made a promise. He dialed one more time, voicemail picking up once again.

“Hey Dad. It’s me. So, I’m about to do something stupid.” Stiles voice cracked with anxiety, and he wondered how wrecked his dad would be when he listened to the message. “I found Lauren; she killed another girl right outside Derek’s loft. The spell is done. She’s going to trap Derek at the old Hale house. She’s going to kill him Dad. I’m heading there too. I promised to tell you what I found out, so this is me, telling you.”

Stiles had a bad feeling in his stomach as the house came into view.

“I love you dad. I haven’t always been the easiest kid to raise and you did amazing. But you were right. I’m going to do everything I can to save the people I love.”

Stiles hung up the phone, shoving it in his pocket. A haunting, desperate howl rang out from the burned-out husk of a house. Stiles grabbed his bat and ran towards the fight.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright people, here is your warning. Things are about to get a little intense. The next few chapters will have angst, violence, and general pain and suffering with very little comfort. Please don't read if it will upset you.

Derek was pissed and wet as he ran. The night had been a clusterfuck of epic proportions and it didn’t seem like it was getting any better. 

The day had started off well enough. The pack had run patrols all day, on high alert for anything out of the ordinary, but predictably found nothing. 

John suspected the murder would happen at night; the other two had, so once night fell, the pack split up. Scott went with the Sheriff, the three betas stayed together. It was safer that way, though Derek could tell Stiles would rather Derek had been with his father.

Derek hated it. The atmosphere was electric, and he could practically smell the magic in the air. It made his head hurt and it was hard to focus. But he did because he had too. The pack ran the streets until their feet hurt and they were panting, covered in sweat from the relentless humidity.

They were downtown, tracing a weird scent to a strip mall, when his phone rang, the screen showing an unknown number. 

“Hello?” he answered, unwilling to ignore it on a night like tonight.

“She was here!” a woman’s voice screamed shrill in the phone. “She’s coming for you.”

“Flo? What’s going on? Who was there?”

“Lauren! She fucking found us. Tried to make us do a spell and when she found out we had our magic bound, she hurt Ivy. She tried to kill her, but I pushed her off. She was ranting like crazy, saying that it was all our faults that so many people had to die. She- ”

“Where is she now?” Derek’s voice was calm but, on the inside, he was going crazy. What if she had gone after the humans of the pack? The other betas had stopped running and were listening in to the phone call, the worry he felt reflected on their faces. 

“I don’t know. She just left. But Derek she said she was coming after you. Personally. She said she was going after your pack so it could just be the two of you again.”

“Go to the sheriff’s station. If you can’t get Ivy up, call an ambulance, but get out of there. Now.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as the tension in the atmosphere came to a head. It began to pour, instantly soaking all of them. 

“She won’t attack us directly. Not if she is going after Derek.” Isaac’s voice was soft, barely able to be heard over the rain. Isaac pulled out his phone, calling Scott. 

No shit. If she was after him, she was going straight for Stiles. 

He dialed Stiles, praying he would pick up. Of course, he would pick up. It was Stiles. He always had his phone. He always picked up when Derek called. He heard the line connect, but all he could hear was static. 

“Stiles?!” he yelled. “Stiles, answer me.”

The line went dead without ever hearing his human’s voice. 

“Shit.” It took all his strength not to throw his phone across the street. He let his claws come out, cutting his palms as he clenched them, forcing himself to stay in control. Isaac hung up his own phone, looking worried. 

“Scott said the Sheriff’s station just got a report of a transformer blowing, maybe more than one. One was in his neighborhood. Scott called the house phone to say the house wasn’t safe to stay there, but lines are awful. He didn’t know if they could hear him or not.”

Lauren was already there. She was at the house. Derek took off running but he only made it a few feet before Ethan grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“The SUV is faster. We’re by the loft. We can go get it and drive to the house faster than we could run there.”

He was right. They ran to the loft and piled into the vehicle, Derek tossing the keys to Isaac so that he could keep trying to get through to anyone on his cell. 

They were in such a hurry they didn’t notice the tall figure waiting in the alley, watching and waiting.

\------  
He never made it through to anyone. He suspected the cell towers were down, or maybe the weather was bad enough the signals just couldn’t get through. Some of the houses they passed had power, others didn’t. They passed one fire burning in the rain and several rescue vehicles trying to put it out. There was flooding everywhere, and it was going to make travel a problem soon. 

Despite the rain, they made it to Stiles’ house in record time, but as soon as they got out of the car, Derek knew no one was there. He couldn’t hear any heartbeats.

The place was a wreck. The tree in the front yard had split, still smoking slightly, and it had fallen through into the living room, wrecking the house. There was glass everywhere and water was slowly ruining the house. 

“Damn,” Isaac said. Then a moment later “The jeep is gone. Maybe they headed for the loft after the tree fell.”

Or maybe they were kidnapped. Derek snapped into leader mode. “Both of you search outside. Start by the house, then work your way around the block. Stay within howling distance.”

Derek went inside, jumping through the hole in the house. He prowled the room, looking for any clues to what had happened to his friends. He found blood splattered on the floor, but it wasn’t much, not enough to make him think anyone was too badly hurt. 

He could smell fear in the room, but not terror. No scent of magic. Maybe they had left because of the tree. Hopefully. But he couldn’t rule out Lauren kidnapping them, though he didn’t think she would have a chance against all three of them. Kira was a hell of a warrior, Lydia was packing, and Stiles would fight to the death to keep the girls safe. 

He had a sudden vision of Stiles dead on the floor, eyes glazed and still, bleeding out from the same wounds that Isaac so easily healed from and he shuttered, before springing back into action. 

Derek had just run back outside, shaking his head to get rid of all his panicked thoughts, when he heard a howl. Ethan’s. He sprinted the few yards to where the beta was, facing out towards the woods, eyes glowing blue as he looked out into the trees.

“There as scent here. A woman, but that’s all I can tell. It may not even go into the woods. The rain makes it hard to tell.”

Derek made a decision. He cared about the town, he really did, and he sincerely hoped no one got murdered, but his pack could be out there. Stiles could be out there.

“We search the preserve. Stay close.”

\-----  
They had only made it a few yards into the trees when Derek’s phone chimed to signal that he had a text message. He paused, motioning the others ahead. 

It was from Stiles. Derek’s heart leaped as he opened it.

Stiles-9:32 pm: “She has me at the old Hale house. Hurry.”

Derek’s stomach dropped as he took off running, dialing Stiles number as he went, hoping he would pick up. He didn’t.

Derek tried the girls but couldn’t get through to them either. He sent out a couple texts; no response. 

The wolf slowed his running, skidding to a stop in the mud, glaring at his phone. Something was wrong. Everything about his was wrong. How was Stiles’ text the only one who got through? The whole situation felt wrong. 

Derek sped back up, howling to let the others know where he was headed. It didn’t matter. The text was the only clue he had. If it was Stiles and by some miracle his text was the only one that got through, he wasn’t about to abandon him just because it might be a trap. And if it was a trap, good. Then at least he would know were Lauren was and he could rip her throat out. 

He got to the Hale house but heard no heartbeats from the outside. He let himself feel just a hint of relief, but the rain was still coming down too hard to be completely sure. He let his eyes bleed blue and his fangs drop as he went inside. 

It still smelled like smoke and death. Everywhere he looked was a memory and it hurt so fucking bad. There was the living room he used to watch movies in with his brothers and sisters. There was the kitchen his mom cooked in. The dining room that they ate and laughed in. And now it was all ash. 

His wolf whined to leave this abandoned den, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t, not if there was a chance Stiles was here. He searched the house room by room, since he couldn’t trust his enhanced hearing over the rain, the smell of ash covering any scent of the human.

“Shit.” Derek’s foot nearly went through the floor of the living room and he stumbled. He looked down to see water below. The basement must be flooding. 

“I’m tearing this house down tomorrow. It’s a deathtrap.” He said to himself, as he moved away from the hole and what was clearly a weak spot in the floor. 

“Aww Derek, you can’t tear it down. This is home.” Derek spun around, letting his face turn human as he did.

Lauren was there, watching him and smiling. Or at least, he assumed it was Lauren. She was tall, with brown hair, exactly like Stiles had described. She had no scent at all or heartbeat that Derek could hear. It was disorienting, not to have those advantages when faced with the woman. 

“Where’s Stiles?” he demanded.

She smiled a wicked smile. “Last time I saw him he was laying awfully still on the pavement downtown. Pretty close to your apartment, if I remember right.” 

Fucking shit hell. He was in the wrong place. Stiles was hurt, and Derek was in the wrong fucking place.

Derek took off running, having every intention of running around Lauren to go find Stiles, but before he got out of what used to be the living room, he found himself pinned against the wall. 

Lauren had an arm against his throat, hard enough to restrain, but not choke. Derek’s eyes were wide, and he had to fight not to let his jaw drop in surprise. She was human, according to Stiles report. She shouldn’t be this fast or this strong.

“Tut tut. Where do you think you’re going little brother? We have so much to catch up on.”

“You are not my sister.” Derek spat. 

She continued like he hadn’t even spoke. “I’ve missed you. But I have to say, I miss the family money even more. Mine ran out, you see, and I need some more. I’ve grown accustom to a certain lifestyle.”

“Peter’s money you mean.”

“Semantics.”

“I’m not giving you anything.” Son of a bitch, Stiles was right about this too. Lauren was just after money. Crazy as shit and after money.

“I don’t need you to. I just need your alpha power so I can get into the vault, take what’s mine.”

Derek’s stomach dropped. How the hell did she know about the vault? Any Hale could enter it at any time-they didn’t have to be an alpha. He never had, not since the fire, but Peter had taken his portion of the money out of it before leaving town. He assured Derek that there was still plenty left, though Derek didn’t really care.

“What makes you think I’m the alpha?” He asked, stalling, straining to catch the sound of Ethan and Isaac coming after him but hearing nothing.

“Please. I know you killed Peter. Shame. I liked him. He was so pretty, even lying there all burned and crispy.”

“How could you even be an alpha? You’re not a wolf.” Even with her strength and speed, Derek could tell she wasn’t. It was clear in the way she moved, the way she held herself. She couldn’t be so delusional she actually thought she was a werewolf.

Lauren smiled like she was thrilled. “I know, it was a problem at first. None one would ever bite me. But that was the point of the spell. Kill three innocents under the new moon and get the powers of a wolf. It was a hard spell and I’m not very good at magic, but I think I managed pretty well.” She shoved Derek harder against the wall and it creaked, threatening to collapse. “Plus, I had this.”

She held up a knife, one like Derek had never seen. It was steel, he thought, but it had four claws embedded in the metal and no point or sharp edge. It smelled like death, like power.

“Are those alpha claws?” Derek was horrified. 

“Yes. The alpha refused to turn me. So, I killed him and took his claws. They work well. They slow down healing and they make it awfully hard for the cops to tell what killed my victims.”

Derek growled, no longer able to keep the wolf inside. He hated his woman. He hated her with a passion. She threatened the people he loved. She was pretending to be the one of the most important people in his life, sullying Laura's memory. She had to pay. 

“Now,” she traced the claws along Derek’s throat, “I’m truly sorry about this Derek. But I need that money, so I need your powers. I’ll try to make it painless.”

Derek shoved her back with all his strength and managed to throw her several feet away, where she fell on one knee. He let his eyes bleed blue and dropped his fangs.

“Sorry to disappoint. I gave up my powers to save my actual sister.”

Lauren let out a shriek and launched herself up at Derek. He grabbed her midair, twisting her surprisingly heavy body and throwing her to the ground in an attempt to pin her. She rolled away before he could sink his claws into her chest, slashing at him with the knife. 

Derek snarled as her knife cut deep into his arm. It felt the same as alpha claws, the same burning pain. No wonder Isaac had taken so long to heal. She giggled madly as they both watched the blood well up as the wound refused to heal.

Derek charged her, again and again, but she was fast, too fast. She would always twist away, too nimble for his strength to be of any use. The spell had worked too well, Lauren was nearly unstoppable one on one, but Derek would be damned if he didn’t try. The room was filled with the sound of their panting breaths, Derek’s snarls, and the occasional roll of thunder punctuating the never-ending rain. 

When he finally got a hit in, it was more luck than skill. He feigned left and went right and she had hesitated a moment too long. Derek got his claws into her side, not deep enough to be fatal, but enough to hurt, enough to slow her down. She screamed, a sound of anger more than pain and Derek couldn’t help but smile as the smell of her blood filled the room. 

Derek when in for a killing blow. He pinned her against the wall, using one arm to hold the knife above both their heads, the other drawn back to tear out her throat. Before the stoke could fall, Lauren lurched forwards, mouth open and bit his fucking face. 

She wasn’t a wolf and her teeth were blunt, but Derek still reeled back in surprise, letting go of her arm. She moved impossibly fast- fucking magic-lashed out with the weapon blindly as Derek twisted onto all fours and frantically backpedaling, trying to regroup. 

The blade cut his leg, nearly to the bone of his thigh. She laughed as Derek staggered, grabbing at the wall to try to stay upright. 

Derek howled in pain and desperation. He didn’t know where Ethan or Isaac were, but he wished they would get here soon.

The only good news in all of this was the for all her speed and strength, she didn’t seem to be healing any quicker than a human might. She was starting to wear down, her motions becoming less practiced, almost sloppy as she went on the offensive, slashing with the knife. 

Derek smiled internally, even as he snarled at her. He could outlast her. He was healing, however slowly. She was not. He could do this. He could win. 

Finally, finally, she went down on one knee, the blood loss making her dizzy. Derek was on her in an instant, once again going straight for the throat. She pulled something out of her pocket and threw it at him. It exploded in a flash that had Derek reeling from the assault on his senses, eyes blind and ears ringing. He struck out with his claws, hoping to hit flesh, head pounding and eyes flickering from wolf to human as they tried to recover. 

Derek ended up on his back, Lauren straddling him in a nearly erotic position, knife pressed against his throat. His ears were buzzing, and he only just heard her lean in and say “I’ll take good care of the pack as alpha, don’t worry.”

She was fucking crazy. He wasn’t alpha, she knew that, killing him would get her nowhere. 

“Your mate will like me even better. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll take care of those needs you couldn’t.”

Derek howled at the mention of Stiles, thrashing under her weight ineffectively. She wasn’t getting him. She wasn’t. 

But she was. The knife was already cutting into his neck when he heard running footsteps. 

“Hey!”

She looked up just in time to see a metal baseball bat collide with her right side. Derek heard bones break as she collapsed to the side in a heap. Derek scrambled away from her, grabbing at his mate, drinking in his scent as he pulled them across the room. Even frightened, it was the best thing he ever smelled.

“Are you alright?” Derek knew he was yelling, still fully wolfed out and Stiles had to reply yes, he was fine, three times before he heard. 

The room was still blurry, and he couldn’t really hear but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the warm human, his human, safe in his arms. They clung to each other, Stiles’ hands clenching his tattered shirt and Derek kissing his forehead over and over, unbelievably grateful he was okay.

When they finally could bare to break apart, Stiles watched the form on the floor. Lauren was still and blood was pooling under her, but Derek could still hear a heartbeat. He made a move towards her to snap her fucking neck, but Stiles grabbed his arm, holding the wolf back.

“Don't. Let’s call my dad. She needs to pay for what’s she’s done. She needs to face the lives she has ruined, the families she tore apart.” Stiles’ face was almost blank as he looked at her, but there was a light behind his eyes that made him look more alive than he had in a long time. 

Derek turned to Stiles and kissed him softly, accepting the human’s decision. Stiles had taken her down, it was up to him what was done with her.

For years, Derek would regret that moment. He should have torn her apart when he had the chance.

Because Isaac picked that moment to storm into the house and paused at the doorway, wolfed out and stinking of fear. Both Stiles and Derek turned to look at him and that is when Lauren made her final move. 

From the floor, she grabbed Stiles’ leg, pulling him from Derek’s grasp and to the ground. Derek charged for her, but she pulled Stiles and herself up in one fluid motion. She smiled wickedly, then threw Stiles across the living room. 

He hit the wall and bounced to the floor with a sickening crack. He let out a horrible scream. Something had broken and fuck if it was his back, Jesus, what if it was his back.

Ever fiber in his being wanted to run to Stiles. His mate was hurt, he needed him. But this might be his last chance at Lauren, and she would never stop coming for them. Stiles would never be safe. He hesitated for just a moment, only a heartbeat, but Lauren took advantage, running towards the doorway where Isaac was standing, bracing for a fight Derek knew he wouldn’t win. 

The house let out a mightily groan, its fractured structure no longer able to handle the fight going on inside. Derek ran towards Stiles, his nose assaulted by the smell of hurtpainbroken coming of his mate but as he got within grabbing distance, so fucking close that he could see the tears in his eyes, the floor gave out. 

“Stiles!” he screamed, watching horrified as nearly half the floor gave way, collapsing into the basement, taking Stiles down with it. There was a deep splash. The basement must have been flooding this entire time. 

He wanted to jump down, to rescue him. But if he jumped now, with how poor his eyesight was he might land on him, making it all worse. He needed get Isaac to look, to help him find Stiles. Together, they could save him. They had to.

Derek twisted around to grab Isaac for help, only to see him locked in a battle with Lauren. She had taken several hits and was bleeding profusely but kept coming at the wolf. Her expression was one of pure madness. Derek roared as Isaac was taken down to his knees with a cruel blow to the head. 

“Derek.” Isaac moaned, but his face was hopeless, like he knew his packmate wasn’t going to save him.

Stiles was his future. He was absolutely sure of it. But there wouldn’t be a future for either of them if Lauren was alive to haunt them. 

He howled as loud as he could, launching himself at Lauren, ripping her off Isaac and throwing her to the floor in a parody of what she had done to Stiles. Before she could move, he had sunk his teeth deep into her throat. Her blood was warm and salty as it filled his mouth. He let go only to watch the light fade from her eyes as her body twitched, then stilled. 

“Fuck.” Isaac said from his place on the floor. Derek was up in an instant, pulling the other wolf along to the hole in the floor. 

“Can you see him?” Derek shouted. “I can’t see right. I don’t want to land on him. Can you see him?”

Isaac pointed to a dark spot to the right of where they were standing, and Derek jumped through the hole, hoping he had been fast enough killing Lauren. Hoping Stiles was alight.

He cursed as the cold water hit him mid-thigh. The house had been flooding worse than he thought, reinforcing the idea that it needed to be torn down. 

Stiles was laying flat on his back, body completely submerged, and eyes shut. Derek bent into the water, trying to lift Stiles up, but couldn’t.

“He’s pinned!” Isaac was beside him in an instant and they both worked frantically to throw the wood flooring off the human. 

Derek felt like he was going crazy. His heart beat frantically, and adrenaline was running through him so quickly that he felt like he was going to explode. His mind was whirling everywhere, thoughts of failure bombarding him. 

Stiles was so still. He wasn’t sure if there was even a heartbeat. He couldn’t hear, not after the grenade, not with the rain still coming down. 

Finally, they shifted the last piece. Derek grabbed Stiles’ limp body while Isaac jumped back up the living room, motioning for Derek to hand him Stiles instead of trying to jump with the human in his arms.

They laid him down on the burned-out floor, as far from Lauren as possible. Derek was panicking, hands shaking so bad he couldn’t use them. Stiles wasn’t waking up. His face was deathly pale and his lips blue. 

“Please. Please, don’t be dead. Please.” He murmured over and over as Isaac pressed his ear to the human’s chest. 

“He has a heartbeat.” Isaac’s voice was shaking, and his eyes were wide as they met Derek’s. “But he’s not breathing.”

Derek let out a sob as his hands brushed back the wet hair plastered to Stiles’ face, pressing his face against the human’s, as if the contact alone would bring him back.

“Derek. Derek!” he didn’t know how long Isaac had been calling his name. He didn’t hear him until the beta shoved him full in the chest with werewolf strength. 

“Start rescue breaths. I know you know them. You made Melissa show you at the beginning of summer, the first time he got hurt. I’m calling 911. If I can’t get though, I’m running for help.”

Derek pinched Stiles nose shut, then latched his lips over his mates. He tried not to think of how cold they were, how wrong they felt, while he pushed air into Stiles lungs over and over. He could hear Isaac cussing a few feet away but didn’t pay any attention. 

“Don’t leave me.” He begged between breaths. “Don’t.”

He heard sirens in the distance and prayed for them to hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters are all cliffhangers, though, in my opinion, this one is the worst. I'm sorry! I'm going to try to post more often to try to make up for it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! This is the chapter I came up with an entire story for. The chapter I envisioned when I laid in bed, unable to sleep. The chapter I talked about so much I made a profile and started writing fan fiction for. This is my favorite chapter, obviously, and now that I've way over hyped it, I hope you enjoy.

Victoria had told Stiles to kill Lauren and he planned on it. When he ran into the house and saw her leaning over Derek, cutting him, his vision went red. He swung his bat harder than he ever had. He relished the crack of bone and the stillness of her frame.

But after he knew Derek was safe, when he was in Derek’s arms where he belonged, the rage fell away. He felt something remarkably like pity for the figure lying there.

Because she wasn’t evil. Crazy and dangerous, but not evil for the joy of it. She needed help and he needed closure. He needed to prove that someone who wasn’t in control of their actions could be redeemed. He wanted the families of the victims to have the answers they needed. 

He should have killed her.

Stiles wasn’t even surprised when she got back up and threw him. His leg snapped as he hit the ground and he screamed as white-hot pain assaulted him, making him lose track of Lauren, of everything but the burning pain. He hoped Isaac was able to stop her. He hoped Isaac would kill her. 

He knew the floor was giving way as Derek ran to him. He could feel it. He just couldn’t get the words out through the agony.

Hitting the water was clarifying, breaking through the haze of pain to kick his brain back into motion, but he didn’t understand where the water had come from. He sunk to the floor like a stone; arms unable to dislodge debris quick enough for him to get to the surface. 

He immediately began to panic, wasting energy flailing underwater, though it didn't make any difference to the weight holding him down. His lungs were already burning, and no one was coming to help. Derek wasn't coming to help. 

He had drowned once before, to save his father. Lydia had held him down while his pack was beside him, going through the same thing. He had been afraid, yes, but he knew Lydia would bring him back.

But now he was alone. And he was terrified. 

He fought the debris until his arms were too tired to move and his head felt like it was about to burst. Intellectually, he knew it was oxygen deprivation making him weak. Emotionally, he felt like he was giving up. 

He refused to open his mouth and let the water in. 

“What if it just gets worse? What if its agony now and it’s just hell later on?” 

The words he once confessed came back to haunt him. Because, agony was losing Allison. It was losing his pack. But this, this was hell. Derek, he had Derek, and now he was going to lose him too. Because Derek was somewhere above him, hopefully protecting the pack, but not here. He wasn’t saving him. 

His vision blurred and he reflexively opened his mouth, water pouring in. He choked, but there was no way to spit the water back out. It forced its way down into his burning lungs. The world when dark around the edges no matter how much he blinked.

“It’s actually kind of peaceful.”

A million miles away and under gallons of water, he heard a roar that had to be Derek’s. He pushed uselessly at the wood pieces one more time, desperately trying to get back to his wolf before he couldn’t move anymore. He faded away, fighting the darkness for the first time in months, and failing.   
\------   
He opened his eyes expecting to see the forest under attack from the same storm that had been blowing the last time he had shown up there. It wasn’t.

Instead, it was beautiful. The sun was shining, and birds were singing. There was a breeze that smelled clean and pure. The woods was the same as the first time he had visited-better even, because now he knew who was waiting on him.

Allison was standing a few feet away, looking as beautiful as she always had, smiling that princess smile that always made Scott melt.

“Ally!” he ran to the hunter and threw his arms around her.

“Stiles.” She sounded wonderful, happy, and alive.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have stopped it. I should have.” The words came fast, poring out of his mouth quicker than they could be understood, but he couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I ruined everything, for everyone. I’m-”

Allison put a hand over his mouth, shutting him up instantly. She looked sad, but not upset, a half smile teasing on her mouth. 

“Stiles. I’m not mad at you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“People keep saying that.”

“Yeah. Because it’s true.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that. He had come a long way over the summer to believing it. Mostly because of Derek, a little bit because of his dad. But he still felt guilty. Because he was the one who let the darkness inside in the first place. He couldn’t quite let the feeling go. He didn’t know how to move on.

“Shit, Allison your mom’s going to kill me. She said I was trapping people here. That I was going to trap you here. I’m not, am I? Wherever here is. Is it heaven?”

Allison shrugged, then held out her hand. Stiles took it and they began to walk through the trees.

“You’re not trapping me here. I’ll leave when you do. She just didn’t want me to come at all, didn’t want me to leave her not matter how briefly. And no, its not heaven. Its more like a magical purgatory.”

“Lauren said it was a spell.”

Allison nodded. “Yeah. The original spell shows their victim a world where they get to see whatever they want most. They get trapped here while their body dies. It allows a magic user to kill someone without actually killing them.”

“But I didn’t die.”

“She wasn’t a very good witch. Plus, you didn’t know who you wanted the most. This was the best her butchered spell could do.”

The reached a clearing and Stiles stopped, pulling his hand away. The Hale house was right ahead, beautiful and whole. Stiles could hear laughter inside. He knew, somehow, that Derek was in there. And he was happy.

He looked at the house, longing flowing through every fiber of his being. “Can I stay here?” he asked, turning to Allison.

She looked sad again but nodded.

“Yes. But I don’t know what will happen to this once you die. It might stay, it might not.” She gestured at the house and the woods, but Stiles wasn't looking at her. 

Stiles snuck close enough to spy inside while she talked, tuning her out in favor of watching the Hales. He could see Derek through the window, looking carefree and wonderful, laughing at something Cora was saying while a toddler that resembled Peter crawled on his lap. There were so many people inside, so many people that were now gone. It broke his heart.

Stiles held his hand up to the window. He wanted this so bad. He wanted to see that expression on Derek’s face all the time, to hear his laughter as his family made him smile.

Allison walked up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“It’s not real. It's just the spell. You finally know what you want. You want him happy.”

“But, I could have it. For a while, he could be happy.”

Allison’s expression went dark.

“Let me show you something.”

She went to the front door and opened it, motioning for Stiles to follow. They walked to the living room where the whole Hale family was seated, happy and smiling as they talked, not even noticing Stiles.

“Look.” Allison said, waving her hand slightly.

The family faded away. The walls went dark and the floor became filthy. There were holes in the roof and rain was coming in, making it smell damp and musty.

Derek was there, kneeling over a broken body on the floor. Stiles. Derek was crying, crying and pleading. He should never look that broken, like he was about to lose everything yet again. But there he was.

Stiles didn’t want to see this. “Ally.” He pleaded, hoping she would take him back to the happy house, back to the place where no one was sobbing like their heart was breaking.

She looked heartbroken too. “He’ll never be happy again if he loses you.”

Stiles looked at his own body on the floor. He was still and deathly pale.

“Am I dead?”

“Not yet.”

Stiles shook his head as he backed away from the tragic scene. Derek was pumping air into his lungs between begging him to wake, getting more distraught and the seconds passed. Stiles noticed Isaac nearby, throwing his phone at the wall then running for the door. 

“I don’t want this Ally. Take me back. Take me back to when it was all happy. Before I ruined it all. Please.” The "before I killed you" remained unspoken. 

She watched his body as well, tears filling her eyes. “You can’t go back. It’s never going to be like it was. That doesn’t mean it still can’t be good.”

Derek threw his head back and howled, an unhuman sound. Then he grabbed Stiles’ slack face, forgetting in his panic to be gentle as he shook the him. “Don’t you leave me all alone. Not you too.”

Before Stiles could break down over the pure pain in his voice, before he could demand that Allison help him, there was the sound of a siren that cut off suddenly as footsteps barreled into the house. 

Stiles moaned, as his dad, followed closely by Scott, burst into the room. Isaac followed, then Ethan as well.

His dad skidded to his knees on the other side of Stiles’ body from Derek. He wore the same look he had when Stiles mother had gotten so sick. A look that said the world was about to change, and not for the better.

“Son.” John’s voice cracked as his trembling fingers checked his son’s pulse.

“His heart's still beating.” Isaac was hovering and looked absolutely panicked. “But he’s not breathing. My phone won’t work. I couldn’t call 911.”

John probably could have figured that out from the frantic rescue breaths Derek was still preforming, but he nodded all the same. He got on his radio, desperately calling for an ambulance, demanding it get here now, that it was his son, his son that needed help right now.

“Son, please. Don’t do this to me.” 

“Oh God.” Allison covered her mouth with her hand as Stiles’ heart stopped beating. 

Even as a ghost, Stiles could feel the room go still. Derek was frozen, one hand on Stiles motionless chest.

“No.” Derek whispered in horror.

His dad looked like he had been gutted as he figured out what the werewolves already knew. He grabbed Stiles' body by the shoulders and gave it a firm shake, his head snapping against the floor.

“No. No Stiles, no. No!”

Scott was on the floor, head in his hands ripping at his hair, trying with all his might not to lose control as Isaac cried silently pressed against the wall. Ethan was wrapped around him, holding both of them up.

John pinched Stiles’ nose and took over rescue breaths as Derek continued to stare in horror at the boy he had loved so fucking still on the floor.

“Derek.” John snapped between breaths. “Derek-start CPR.”

Stiles didn’t think the wolf was even breathing. He was almost as pale as Stiles and his eyes looked dead. Allison was right. This would be the end of Derek Hale.

His dad was begging now, the same words he had said over his mother’s corpse, begging for him not to go. “There’s nothing left if you’re gone. I can’t do this without you. Please son, please fight. Breath for me.” He turned he gaze to the wolf in front of him.

“Derek!” John absolutely snarled at the motionless wolf. “Start compressions or move so I can.”

Derek jerked, then interlocked his hands on Stiles chest, right above his heart. He pressed down, beginning compressions, arms moving as he cried so hard that he couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe. 

Every wolf in the room flinched as Stiles’ ribs cracked under the pressure. Scott howled, a sound of loss and pain and the others joined, expressing grief in a more profound way that human words ever could. 

Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. 

“What do I do? How do I get back?”

Allison didn’t say anything, just watched, her hand ghosting over Scott’s shoulder as his eyes glowed red and his claws scored groves in the rotten floors. 

“Allison, how do I go back to them?”

“You have to let me go.” Her voice was soft, but firm, eyes never leaving Scott. 

Stiles reared back as though she had slapped him.

“Let you go? Allison, you were the best thing to ever happen to Scott. You were Lydia’s best friend. Everything was better when you were there. You should be remembered forever, by everyone.”

“Then remember me. But you have to stop blaming yourself. You have to. It's the only way.”

“But” Stiles couldn’t. It was his fault. He had killed Allison. 

But he hadn’t. Not really. He wasn’t even there when she got stabbed. He had been passed out cold in the hall with Lydia. He didn’t want to be possessed. He had fought against it as hard as he could. Hell, he had tried to warn the pack what was happening. He didn’t want the darkness. It had taken him. He had been a victim, as much as she had. 

It was like a million pounds had been lifted from his back. He felt like he could breathe again, even as his body continued to cool.

“There you go. I knew you could do it.” His mother was suddenly beside him, smiling like only she could.

“Mom.” His voice broke and she wrapped him in a hug. 

The room began to fill with each of his ghosts. Erica, Tara, and Heather all watched his father beg for him to wake up, their expressions morose. 

Other ghosts he didn’t know appeared as well. Men and women, looking nearly solid pressed into the room, all watching. Stiles managed to recognize a few of them as they appeared. Aiden was there, eyes never leaving his brother, and so was Scott’s abuela who used to press cookies in both their hands with a smile. 

“He’s done so well.” A woman that Stiles had only seen after she had been cut in half and buried spoke, eyes never leaving Derek’s back. Laura. 

“You did good too.” Laura’s smile was nice as she glanced at Stiles. She stood next to a woman who had to be her mother. Talia. 

The alpha meet Stiles’ eyes across the room. She didn’t look sad, only proud as she watched. 

“Tell him.” She commanded and Stiles understood how the alpha power was meant to work. He couldn’t have refused even if he wanted too. “Tell him I’m so proud of him. That he had become everything I always knew he would. That I’m so glad he has you.”

Stiles nodded.

“We’ll keep watching Batman.” Erica looked fond as she watched her pack, Boyd right by her side. “Don’t disappoint.”

“You need to hurry.” His mother looked worried as she watched her son’s body that was slowly going blue.

“What do you want me to tell dad?”

She looked young as she glanced at her husband who was frantically forcing air into their son’s lungs.

“Nothing. He knows I love him. Always have, always will.”

Stiles nodded again, hugging her tight once more, for the last time. “Love you mom.”

“I love you too. So much.”

He closed his eyes and let them all go.


	16. Chapter 16

Derek was numb. Stiles wasn’t breathing. His heart wasn’t beating. His human, his mate should never be this still, this cold under his hands. 

His compressions were getting more and more desperate. He was sweating and had broken several ribs, but he wasn’t going to stop. He couldn’t stop. They would have to drag him away.

The Sheriff had tears running down his face but didn’t seem to be aware of it. He was still breathing for his son, still encouraging him to wake up, please, just wake up.

Derek could hear the ambulance. It was still a few miles away and it might as well be a hundred. A part of his brain thought they should do something about the dead body a few feet away before it got here. That someone should stop Scott from wolfing out like he was currently doing.

A bigger part just didn’t care. They would deal with it after Stiles was better. Once he woke up. If he woke up. If he didn’t then it didn’t really matter. 

Stiles twitched almost imperceptibly and Derek paused, heart in his throat. He leaned down, putting his ear on Stiles chest, hoping, praying to hear something. 

There was a faint thud, just barely audible, but another followed it, then another. Stiles’ whole body shuttered and jerked, then he began to cough up water.

“Roll him.” John commanded and Derek obeyed, moving Stiles onto his side so he could clear the fluid from his airway.

It felt like Stiles coughed and sputtered for hours, each horrible noise squeezing Derek’s heart. Finally, he went from coughing to gasping and it felt like the worst might be over. John rolled him back carefully, hands stroking his son’s hair. 

“Easy. Easy, son. You’re alright,” he murmured over and over.

Derek wasn’t sure. Stiles heart was beating, but it was thready, weak. Every breath sounded like it was being pushed through drying concrete. His parlor was still awful, and he wasn’t fucking waking up. 

As if he knew what Derek was thinking, Stiles picked that moment to weakly flail his hands, moaning in pain. Derek took one as squeezed as hard as he could without causing damage, as John took the other. 

Derek began to pull at the pain tearing through Stiles’ body trying to take it all from him, but Scott stopped him.

“Don’t.” he commanded. Derek bared his teeth and growled at his alpha. 

Scott didn’t back down, but he did finally let his beta shift fall away, eyes turning human. “You can’t pull his pain right now. The EMT’s will need him alert to help tell them what hurts.”

John nodded in agreement, so Derek stopped, but only after taking the edge off it. He wasn’t about to let Stiles suffer. Stiles’ amber eyes flickered open as he finished. Derek swore he had never seen anything so beautiful. Stiles tried to say something, but all that came out was mush.

“Its alright. You’re alright. You need to lay still.” John said, trying to calm him as Stiles became more and more agitated, his breathing hitching. Derek could still hear the water gurgling in his lungs. 

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice broke but he didn’t even care. “Stiles, please, just stay still.”

Stiles’ head lolled towards Derek, and he calmed slightly as he caught sight of the wolf. He wheezed and Derek squeezed his hand again.

“Lauren’s gone. Everyone’s alright. It’s alright.”

Stiles smiled brokenly at him before his face went blank. He seemed disoriented, eyes losing focus over and over. John and Derek tried to reassure him he was safe and that he needed to stay still but he wouldn’t calm.

The ambulance was pulling down the drive, so close the sirens hurt Derek’s ears but he frowned, worried. Stiles heart wasn’t right. It was skipping beats and Stiles’ lips were blue. Derek didn’t think he was getting enough air and Derek was worried Stiles might slip away again any second.

His mate’s eyes were drilling into him, finally focusing. He took several shallow breaths before slurring out a word.

“Mom.”

Derek looked at John, confused. The Sheriff’s face lost all color as he grabbed this son’s chin, gently turning his head towards himself.

“Stiles did you see your mother?”

Stiles nodded and tried to pull enough air to say something else but instead went limp. His eyes rolled back and his heart fluttered in his chest as the EMT’s swarmed into the room.  
\------  
The EMT’s were fast and efficient. At the Sheriff’s direction, they ignored the dead body in the room and instead focused on getting oxygen into Stiles. They had him loaded up and ready to go before Derek processed what was happening. 

The Sheriff drove the pack to the hospital. He shouldn’t have been driving at all. He smelled like pure panic and his normally calm demeanor was frantic as he hustled them into the car. But the EMT’s wouldn’t let them ride in the ambulance and no one wanted to wait for someone to pick them up. John’s hands shook on the wheel and he speed faster than even a cop should, but Derek wasn’t about to tell him to slow down.

Derek was pretty sure he was losing time. One second, they were leaving the house, the next they were pulling into the ER parking lot. He felt weak and shaky, but at the same time like he could never rest again, his own heart pounding so loud even humans should have been able to hear it. 

They all barreled into the ER in time to see Stiles on a stretcher disappearing into a set of doors. Derek collapsed against the wall, unable to stand any more. The betas gathered loosely around him, protecting him from any dangers that might come after him while he was weak.

A nurse stopped the Sheriff as he tried to push through the door.

“Sir, you can’t go in there,” she said, pushing him back as best she could.

“You don’t understand. That’s my son. That’s my son!” John was yelling now. Security showed up and joined the nurse in holding him back as John fought against them. 

Derek knew Stiles would want him to get up, to stop his father from doing something stupid, like punching a security guard. But he couldn’t stand up. He couldn’t help anyone. All he could do was sit and feel nothing. 

“Let me go! That’s my son. That’s my son!” 

“John!” Melissa ran up behind them, the girls following, both looking pale and Kira limping slightly.

It was like his strings had been cut. He fell against Melissa and Scott hurried over to help his mother support the weight. 

Tears were rolling down John’s face and he began to sob in earnest. 

“He saw his mom. He saw Claudia. He died, Melissa, and they won’t let me be with him.”

Melissa pulled him to the ground beside Derek, shushing him and rubbing confronting circles on his back while the man cried. John reached out, grabbing at Derek and pulling him into the hug. Derek stiffened, then let himself be held. Warmth was added to his back, as Isaac sat down against him, then Ethan. Scott leaned against him mom, still standing, Kira in his arms. Lydia stood apart for just a moment, before Isaac open his arms and she launched herself into them. 

\-------  
Eventually, at Melissa’s urging, the pack moved from the hallway into a semi-private waiting room, but their positions didn’t change much. 

Derek picked the corner furthest from the door and planted himself in it, Ethan and Isaac on either side of him like bodyguards. Lydia sat with her body on Isaac’s lap, and her head pressed against Derek’s shoulder, both taking turns drawing the pain from her headache. Scott sat apart with his head in his hands on the hard, plastic chairs. Kira sat next to him, rubbing his arm comfortingly while shooting looks at the rest of the pack, like she would rather be in the pile with them.

John didn’t sit. He alternated between pacing and interrogating passing nurses for information on Stiles’ condition. Melissa tried to push some water into him, to get him to sit down before he collapsed but he brushed her off. After about an hour of this, she gave up and went to try to use her authority to get them all some answers.

The silence in the room was oppressive, almost overpowering, as they waited for news. Derek felt powerless, useless. Feelings he was unaccustomed to. He hated it, but here was nothing he could do but wait. The only thing that made him feel even a little bit better, was the fact that is pack was with him. He wasn’t alone.

It was nearly another hour before Melissa found her way back, but as soon as she entered the room, Derek could smell the relief on her and for the first time tonight, he let himself think everything might turn out alright. She was smiling as she crossed the room to where John was standing, stiff and clearly terrified. The pack stood as well, crowding around both of them.

“He’s alive. He’s stable.” Melissa paused to let that sink in. John swayed, and Derek pushed him into a chair before he collapsed. 

She continued. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked. His tibia is cracked, but not broken. His hip was dislocated, but it was reduced without any problems. He does have some water in his lungs, and three broken ribs, four cracked. There is some concern that he could develop pneumonia because of that, so they’ll keep him under observation.”

“His heart?” Derek asked, voice cracking as he thought of how still Stiles’ chest has been under his hand. 

“His EKG looks good. They don’t think he was without oxygen long enough to cause any brain damage. He does have a concussion, but it’s pretty mild.”

John pulled Derek into the chairs beside him and dragged him tight against his side. “You saved him. If you hadn’t started rescue breaths, who know how bad it would be.”

Derek disagreed. Stiles never would have been in danger in the first place if not for him, but he wasn’t going to upset everyone by saying it now. That was something to be thought of later, alone in the dark when the events of the day hit with terrible clarity. 

“Can we see him?” Scott asked, sounding nothing like the confident alpha he was. 

“Two at a time. Five minutes only. And do not wake him up.”  
\-----  
The Sheriff was first, of course but he surprised Derek by pulling him along into the room. Stiles was laying on the bed, looking still and pale, but so much better than he had on that dirty floor. John immediately grabbed his son’s hand, pressing his forehead against his arm and crying quiet tears. 

Derek stayed back, drinking in the sound of his heartbeat, the smell of his skin. Stiles smelled of pain, but that meant he was alive. It wasn’t until their time was up that he even stepped up to the bed. He ran his fingers gently over Stiles’ cheek, pressing a kiss to his forehead before leaving with the Sheriff.

John walked away after that, muttering something about necessary evils. Derek sat down right beside the door, close enough he could hear Stiles’ heart even without the monitors.

Isaac and Ethan went in together but didn’t stay long. Isaac said he was going home to get some sleep. He needed it. Healing took a lot out of a wolf. Ethan waited beside the door for a bit, shifting and fidgeting. 

“I think I’m going to take a walk. Check things out.” He said finally eyes flashing for a second, clearly implying he was going to patrol the area for threats. 

Derek understood the impulse. It was hard to stand still when a packmate was injured. The instinct was to protect, and Ethan’s way of protecting was to go on the offensive. He suspected Isaac would be out with him as soon as he had gotten some rest.

The girls went in next, taking their full time and a little more until Melissa had to usher them out. Both their eyes were red, and Lydia looked miserable. They tried to stay with Derek, but Melissa insisted that they both needed sleep as well. They had each been injured and needed to heal.

That left Scott. Derek watched him enter the room like he was heading to his own funeral. He intentionally didn’t listen to what Scott said to his sleeping ex-friend, but when the alpha came out, he had tear tracks down his face. 

“I have to go,” he said to Derek, looking at the wall instead of his beta. “I have to go. Call me if-”

Derek didn’t let him finish. “I will. But he’ll be fine.”

Scott nodded, then ran down the hall. 

John came back shortly after. He sat down on the floor beside Derek, groaning as his knees cracked.

“Here,” he said, handing Derek a decent sized pocket knife that smelled like blood.

Derek raised his eyebrow, too tired to ask. 

“Parish will be by soon. We left a body.”

Derek growled slightly at the memory. He wished he had time to tear her apart and scatter her parts in the woods. 

“Here is what happened. There have been lots of vandals at your old house lately. You were worried that the dark of the new moon might make people brave. You and Stiles drove out there to check. You walked in only to find a woman there. She was crazy and attacked you. You cut her with that knife, your knife, several times but she kept coming.”

“I ripped out her throat with my teeth. Someone will notice that.”

“No, you didn’t. When she pushed Stiles and you heard his leg break, you panicked and threw her. A piece of rotten wood tore it out. You were so worried about Stiles you didn’t notice. No one is going to look too hard once they figure out her knife is a match for the murders, including the one tonight.”

And just like that, Lauren's case was wrapped up and done. Derek nodded and waited on Parish to come and take his statement, relishing the sound of Stiles’ heart.

\------  
Stiles slept. The doctors let Derek and John stay in the room with him in the morning and never made them leave, even after visiting hours were over. The rest of the pack fluttered in and out, bringing food that they didn’t eat and smiling with encouragement that fell flat as Stiles stayed still and silent longer and longer. 

Stiles woke up several time that day, but it was nothing like the movies. He didn’t wake up and confess his unending love for Derek, the trauma of almost dying bringing out his true feelings, his only regret being that he never told the wolf that he loved him.

The first time he woke up, Derek had rushed to his side from the chair where he had been hovering. John was in the bathroom, and Derek yelled for the Sheriff before Stiles’ eyes had even focused. His eyes focused on Derek’s then went blank, brow creasing. Derek reached out to take his hand, only to have Stiles’ face go white as he leaned up and vomited all over the wolf. 

Stiles fell back asleep as the nurses came in to check on him. He woke up several times after that and never got sick again but was always disoriented. He couldn’t remember what happened or where he was. Sometimes he remembered the pack, sometimes he didn’t. He had been afraid of Derek one time when he woke up, not remembering him and screaming for his father.

It was horrible and after that, Derek stayed out of his eyeshot, but still never left the room. Stiles asked for his mom a few times. Derek could tell that it gutted John to hear, but he was the picture of patience, answering his questions over and over again, assuring him that everyone was fine. 

Stiles finally woke up, really woke up, at about 8pm, nearly 24 hours after he had almost died. He remembered the fight and asked his dad where Derek was, if he was okay, where Lauren was. John answered as best he could, waving Derek over. 

Derek, dressed in borrowed scrubs since his clothes were ruined, finally saw recognition in Stiles’ eyes as the younger man looked at him. He walked cautiously to the bedside. As soon as he was within grabbing distance, Stiles hand reached out and clutched his wrist, an echo of the gesture that had so often calmed Stiles. 

“Hey” he said, looking tired and sounding wrecked but fucking alive. 

Derek nodded; throat too tight to speak.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Stiles was rubbing small circles on Derek’s wrist, pushing down hard. It seemed wrong; the way Stiles was comforting him. He wasn’t the one in a hospital bed. 

“You should get some rest” John said, deliberately not looking at the private moment between the two of them. “You’ve been through a lot.”

Stiles grinned stupidly at his dad. “It’s going to take a lot more than that to take me down. Besides, I think my luck is finally looking up.”

Derek snorted and Stiles laughed, then got serious as his eyes went distant “Stay with me”

“Always.”

Stiles feel back asleep and Derek could finally breathe again.  
\------  
John left for the night, mostly because he had work to do. They finally had their murder suspect and even though she was dead, there was still a lot of paperwork. He promised Derek he would be back first thing in the morning.

Stiles was considered stable, so the nurses only came in once an hour. Derek sat in the dark and watched him sleep, not caring how creepy it made him seem. He couldn’t have looked away even if he had wanted to. His wolf needed to see it’s mate safe. It needed to see his chest rise and fall, see him shift in his sleep, to reach out and feel the warm skin of his hand just to be sure Stiles was alive. 

Derek made it through most of the night on bad coffee the nurses were kind enough to bring him and sheer determination. His body ached from the fight and the subsequent healing. His mind was tired from the stress of watching the one person he was sure he loved die and come back. It would have been so easy to pass out, but he refused. 

It was nearly daybreak when the events of the day before hit him all at once. He had gotten up to use the restroom and had glanced at his reflection. He looked awful. He had bags under his eyes and his stubble had moved from rugged to homeless man fighting with cats in the alley. 

The worst part was the haunted look in his eyes. He knew what put it there. Losing Stiles. Because he had almost lost Stiles. He had stopped breathing; his heart had stopped. Stiles had died. It was pure luck that they had been able to get him back. If it had taken even a little bit longer, his heart wouldn't have restarted and Derek would be all alone again, howling at the moon with no one left to care, and oh God, oh please, oh please. 

Derek collapsed on the bathroom floor, curling up in a ball like a dog, hands pressed against him mouth so he wouldn’t make a noise and wake Stiles. He cried and cried until it hurt, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t breathe. All he could think about was how close it had been, how still Stiles had been, and the awfulness of it all. 

He wondered if this was a panic attack and found he didn’t really care. 

Derek was so caught up in his own suffering that he didn’t hear the hospital door open or the footsteps come towards the bathroom.

“Oh Lord.” John said, running a hand over a tired face, before joining Derek on the floor, hand on the back of the wolf’s back. “Let it out.”

John rubbed small circles, but kept his distance, careful not to crowd. “It’s alright. Just breathe through it.”

“I can’t.” Derek gasped through the sobs. 

“If you can talk, you can breathe. Come on breathe with me. In then out. You’re alright.” John was rambling a bit now, but it was comforting. Maybe that was where Stiles picked up that tendency. Derek listed to his steady, strong heart, matched his breathing with John’s and slowly calmed down.

Derek was still shaking when it was over, but he sat up, wiping his eyes. He put his blank face that hid the pain back on and apologized for disturbing John. 

“Derek,” John said very seriously, “Your mental health will never be a disturbance for me. Now, do you want to tell me what brought that on? I’ve never seen you lose control like that.”

“Its just.” Derek didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it. “He died. Oh God. We almost lost him.” 

To his surprise, he burst into tears yet again. John pulled him in close, pushing Derek’s head down on his shoulder. 

“It’s was all my fault.” Derek confessed, nearly howling in pain before remembering Stiles was sleeping a few feet away.

John grip tightened. “You listen here Derek Hale. What happened was not your fault. It was all on Lauren. She was the one who tried to murder you. She was the one who almost killed my son. And it’s alright to be upset about that. Its okay if it takes a while to feel normal again. Because it’s going to be awhile before I can look at Stiles and not see him still and blue. But it is not alright for you to think any part of this is because of you. You were a victim, just like the rest of us.”

“Alright.” Derek didn’t believe John, not fully. But he wanted too. He thought that someday he might be able to. And right now he would take what he could get. 

“Come on.” John said, pulling them both up. “You need food. Let’s go grab some breakfast. We’ll be back before Stiles wakes up.”

\-----  
Derek hoped that would be the end of their discussion. As much as he respected John, he didn’t enjoy taking about his feelings with anyone. He preferred to stay distant and aloof. It was easier that way. Stiles was the only one who could break through the walls that Derek put up, and that was how he liked it. 

Stiles woke up the next morning feeling much better and acting almost like his old self, joking about how he deserved curly fries for breakfast. Derek indulged him, sneaking him a few of his own hash browns as they waited on several doctors to finish their examinations.

The water on his lungs had cleared up and his neurologist declared him mental fit. He could go home tomorrow. The physical therapist came in to teach him how to walk with the crutches. It was going to be painful, considering the state of his ribs, but it would be better for his healing if he tried it anyway. 

After therapy, Derek had to pull Stiles pain for ages before he could finally drift off into an exhausted sleep. The pack had been around, Lydia and Isaac in particular and while their support seemed to help Stiles, there were too many people about for Derek’s taste. He pushed them both out after Stiles feel asleep, much to their displeasure. 

Derek sunk into his chair, wishing he could sleep as well, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw death. He was still sitting that way when the Sheriff walked in with a half-finished bag of fast food. He didn’t say anything, just took the other chair and finished his meal. 

“All the doctors are saying good thing. He can go home tomorrow.” The Sheriff said finally, crumpling up the bag and getting up to throw it out. Derek didn’t answer until the man was almost out the door. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” John asked, walking back over and sitting again.

“I don’t know what to do now.”

John looked thoughtful. “You mean now that everything is alright?”

Derek nodded. 

John was staring at him now. “Derek, what makes you happy?”

“Stiles.”

“Besides him.”

“The pack. Everyone being safe.”

“Derek, I think you need to figure out what gives you purpose.” 

Derek opened his mouth to say that Stiles did, but John held up a hand to stop him. 

“I don’t mean my son. I know you care about him. I think you might even love him. But he is never going to be happy just sitting around with you aimlessly. He needs activities to focus him, even if they are mundane and boring.”

Derek knew that. Stiles was constantly in motion. He would never be happy in a life of sitting still, sipping lemonade and watching the world pass them by.

“Your whole life, since you were sixteen, had been about survival and keeping your pack safe. As much as it kills me to say this, I have a feeling that Stiles’ accident will be the things that brings the pack together to be stronger than ever. They’re safe now. Your pack will always need you, yes, but they are growing up. You need to think about yourself, who you are outside of them. Who you could be.”

“That’s what my therapist says.”

“Sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.”

“You think I should get a job?”

“If you want. Something with sports. Maybe coach some minor league, or you would be a hell of a baseball scout. But you seem to be doing alright for money if you don’t want a job. Pick something. Write a blog about things you find interesting, movies or the concerts Stiles tries to drag you to. Hell, be an interior designer for all I care. Just find something you love. Isn’t that what you and Stiles have been trying to do all summer?”

“What does he want?” Derek asked, deflecting.

John looked as his sleeping son fondly. “He used to want to be a cop. Said it was the most important job in the world-taking care of people who need help. But, with the PTSD, I don’t know if he will be able to. If he even really wants to anymore. He was saying something the other night about maybe working with kids as like therapist or something. Maybe find a way to specialize in the supernatural.” 

Stiles frowned in his sleep, and Derek reached out and pulled at the ache he found there, letting the conversation drop as Stiles settled back down.

John reached up and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing tight then standing. “You don’t have to decide right now. But think about it. We both want you happy. I’m going to run and get him some clothes. I’ll stay the night tonight so you can get some sleep.”

Derek nodded, then pulled out his phone. He had some research to do.


	17. Chapter 17

Stiles was grateful to be home. He was grateful that he was alive. He was grateful that he had his pack back, even Scott. It made recovery so much better. 

His dad had been the one to drive him home. Derek had been busy with some sort of emergency errand that he wouldn’t talk about. The damage to the house from the storm had been bad, but thanks to Derek’s money, it had been cleaned up quickly. They even got a new couch, chair, and TV out of it. John had felt bad, accepting Derek’s money, but the wolf had insisted, fixing the Sheriff with a glare and saying he needed to help the people he cared about. After that, his dad hadn’t argued. 

The drive home hadn’t been bad, still doped up with the good stuff from the hospital. When they pulled in, he was pleased to see that someone had driven his jeep back home. He was less pleased to see Scott on the sidewalk, leaning against his bike, waiting on him. 

Scott had the decency to wait until Stiles had unfolded himself from the car and maneuvered his crutches under his arms before he came over. 

“Hey,” Scott said, looking younger than he had in years.

“Hey.”

No one said anything else and Stiles’ ribs began to ache from standing. He wished Derek hadn’t been too busy to come with them. He would have carried him inside and not made him feel like a damsel in distress. 

His dad rolled his eyes as the silence stretched. “Let’s move this party inside boys.”

Stiles had planned on going upstairs to his room so he could pass out on his own comfy bed, but after walking from the driveway to the living room, his ribs were making it clear that it wasn’t going to happen. He sat down heavily on the couch, face twisting in pain. The good drugs were wearing off. His dad went to the kitchen to get him something to drink and take his meds with. 

“Are you alright?” Scott asked, hovering.

Stiles wanted to be a smart ass. He wanted to shoot off a clever remark that would have Scott running from the house fuming in anger. But Scott looked so earnest standing by the couch, unwilling to touch him and make it worse when he clearly wanted to help. That was the thing about Scott. He was so painfully honest and good. He would always try to make the “right” decision, even if it hurt. No matter who it hurt. 

Stiles moved his crutches and patted the seat next to him. “I’ll be alright Scotty.” 

His dad came back in with the pills. Stiles took them, hoping at least one was for the pain. He flipped on the TV, aimlessly looking for something to watch as Scott finally sat down.

“I’m sorry,” Scott said.

“Don’t.” Stiles was not in the mood to talk about it. He wanted to watch bad TV until his meds put him back to sleep. 

“I have to. You were in a bad place and I kicked you out of the pack. I took away all your friends, your family, and then expected you to be fine. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”

“You were protecting the pack. You did what you felt needed done. It’s what makes you a good alpha.” One of the pills was definitely Vicodin. Stiles was starting to feel pleasantly floaty. He picked an old western to watch and pulled a blanket over his lap, propping his legs up comfortably. The new couch reclined, a definite bonus. He would have to thank Derek for that too. 

“It wasn’t just for the pack.” 

Well that put a damper on his high. Scott looked ashamed and miserable as he curled in on himself.

“I wanted you gone. It hurt too much to see your face. I kept seeing the nogitsune instead of you. I kept seeing Allison die, over and over. I should have gotten help dealing with it. I never should have pushed you away.”

“I didn’t exactly try to be there for you either.” Stiles paused to take a deep breath. “I keep seeing her die too. We were both in pain and handled it badly. I’m not mad anymore. Stop beating yourself up.”

“Can we be best friends again? Can we just forget and go back to the way we were?”

Something in Stiles gut twisted. He loved Scott, but things were different now. Allison’s words came back to him.

“No.”

Scott looked like he had been hit. Stiles reached out and grabbed his shoulder then pulled him in, giving him a one-armed hug, the best he could do with his ribs throbbing. 

“It’s not going to be the same because we can’t forget. We can’t forget her. We can’t forget Allison; we can’t forget any of them. But we can find a way to still be friends. If we can figure out lycanthropy on our own, we can figure out how to be us again.”

Scott smiled, expression full of hope, then motioned for Stiles to lay down, his legs on Scott lap and head on a pillow. They watched the movie until Stiles drifted off.

\------

Stiles recovered, quickly and well. He was never alone. There was always a handy werewolf nearby to take his pain. It worked better and faster than the pills, and with no unpleasant side effects. 

Scott was there most days. They mostly watched movies, with the occasional video game thrown in when Stiles could stay awake long enough. They caught up on all they had missed in each other’s life over the last few months. 

Stiles skipped over all the depression and anxiety. He didn’t want to make Scott feel any worse than he did. He mostly talked about Derek. Scott had known Derek and Stiles had been getting close, but he didn’t realize how close. His jaw had dropped when Stiles told him about their first kiss, the good one in bed, not the one that caused a panic attack. The first one didn’t count.

Scott told him about all the supernatural happenings, which was not much, thankfully. Ivy and Flo were reopening their coffee shop. Ivy had recovered from Lauren's attack and both seemed satisfied to be magic-less for the time being. There was a possible haunting in a condo, and a redcap in the forest, but nothing that required immediate attention.

Scott talked about how he didn’t think he and Kira were going to last much longer. She had been a rebound for Allison and when she had died, it had twisted their relationship.

“But I think I’ll always love Kira. Just not like that, you know?”

Stiles thought of Lydia and how he still loved her, but how it had nothing on how he felt about Derek. When he thought he loved Lydia, it had been selfish. It had about how he wanted her, not what she wanted. When he thought about Derek-he only wanted to make him happy. No matter what. He would do anything for Derek. 

Stiles nodded. “Yeah.”

When Scott had to work, Isaac and Ethan came over. They were both quieter at first, as if they were afraid Stiles might break. It pissed him off. He was human, yeah, but he had proved how tough he was. He hit Isaac with his crutch, demanding chips and just like that, everything was back to normal for them, all snark and sarcasm. Ethan had discovered the Fast and Furious series and wanted to watch them all. They marathoned, Stiles napping between race scenes. 

The girls came over whenever they felt like it, their visits overlapping with the boy’s. They usually brought home cooked food, which was nice, since Stiles wasn’t exactly up to cooking. Kira, the sweetheart, helped with the cleaning and laundry, since John had been too busy to keep up with it like Stiles normally did. Lydia took it upon herself to organize Stiles' room and clean out his closet. He had to dig his favorite graphic t-shirts out of the trash when she weren’t looking. 

Stiles enjoyed finally getting to know Kira. There hadn’t been much time before he was possessed. Kira, as it turned out, was a total nerd. She loved fantasy and it wasn’t long before they were planning out matching outfits for Comic-con. She brought over a few of her favorite novels and they spent hours on the couch reading while Lydia shopped online for button-ups that Stiles and she could agree on. 

It took Stiles a few days to figure out why she and Lydia were friends. They were so dissimilar. Kira was goofy and silly; Lydia organized and clever. It wasn’t until he caught Lydia watching Kira longingly as she cleaned up the kitchen after dinner that he got it. Opposites attract.

“You should make a move.” Stiles whispered to Lydia, who blushed scarlet, whipping around to make sure none of the wolves had heard. 

“You love who you love,” Stiles said simply, thinking of Derek. 

Derek had been around too. Mostly at night. Only at night. Usually after Stiles had fallen asleep. When he would crawl into Stiles’ bed and pull the pain enough to keep Stiles asleep. He would stay in the morning, sometimes. They would have a silent breakfast before Derek would kiss him on the forehead and leave, saying he had things he had to do.

So, maybe things weren’t great with Derek. He had been quiet, even for him, and had that angsty expression he had so often worn as a long-suffering alpha. It made Stiles twitch. He simultaneously wanted to kiss Derek until the expression was gone, and also hold him down and make him admit what was wrong.

Because Derek didn’t act like he wanted to break up either. When he would sneak into bed at night, he would hold Stiles impossibly close, like he never wanted to let go. If Stiles would wake up from a nightmare in a cold sweat, Derek would murmur comforting sounds into his neck, running his fingers up and down his back. At breakfast, Stiles would catch him watching him eat, the expression on his face one of longing and loss. 

Stiles got it. He had been dead. He had died in Derek's arms. That was a lot to sort through. And clearly, Derek wasn’t handling it well. 

Stiles wasn’t handling it that well either. As long as he was busy, as long as he was surrounded by friends, he was fine. But once everyone was gone, the reality of it set in. He had almost lost his dad. He had almost lost Derek. No matter where the afterlife was, no matter how good it could be, it still wasn’t here with them. He saw the sorrow on each ghost’s face. He saw how much they still wanted to be with their loved ones but couldn't be. 

He thought about his mother far too often. He zoned out more than he had all summer as his mind got stuck on the color her eyes or the way she said she loved him. He wondered if they were watching him now. It freaked his dad out. He was talking about adjusting his meds again, something Stiles was not in favor of. They argued and John had left the room looking defeated. Stiles hated it, but he didn’t want more meds. He wasn’t depressed. He felt lighter than he had in a year. He was dealing, just sometimes getting distracted. 

The pack handled it a bit better. Whoever was there would just hold his hand until he drifted back. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was working. It would get better. Stiles was sure. He just needed some time. 

He had had a couple of panic attacks over his death, unfortunately. Some were worse than others, triggered by anything from the smell of rain and ash to actually being wet. It was kinda a problem actually. He wasn’t allowed to shower until his leg healed, so he was forced to use the tub and he hated it.

He had been almost done, soaking and comfortable, Scott having pulled his pain before leaving for the night. He must have fallen asleep for half a second, because when he woke, his face was underwater. He jerked up with a shout, throwing himself out of the tub, straining his ribs and drenching the floor with water and his heart pounded and his breathe stuttered.

It had been a bad one, one so bad he lost track of himself for a while. He didn’t remember Derek running in from nowhere, splintering the door instead of unlocking it. He didn’t remember the way he had picked him up naked off the floor, cradling him like a child, pulling away the physical pain and trying to tame the emotional with kisses to his forehead.

The first thing he remembered was Derek crying and somehow that made it even worse.

“Breath Stiles. In and out. Please. Your heart is way too fast. You have to calm down.” 

It was far too close to the words he had used at the Hale house that terrible night. Stiles’ heart just beat faster.

“Derek” he begged, not knowing what he was asking for, back arching as he gasped and nails digging into Derek so hard he was sure he drew blood. 

It didn’t end until Derek carried him to the bedroom and wrapped him in a blanket. It wasn’t until Stiles was sure that he wasn’t still on the burned-out floor that he could finally calm down. 

Derek kissed him on the lips as they lay in the dark together, the kiss nothing but softness and comfort. 

“Please don’t let me leave. Don’t leave me.” Stiles begged again.

Derek only response was to pull Stiles even tighter.  
\------  
Stiles didn’t think Derek would leave him. Not after what he saw at the Hale house. He was pretty sure Derek loved him, and no one leaves the people they love. Stiles didn’t. He came back for Derek, after all. They would get through the panic attacks and the uncomfortable silences and be happy again. 

So, Stiles did his physical therapy, talked to his friends, and let Lydia buy him a new wardrobe for the new school year. The longer he faked it, the less faked it felt, until he went an entire day without thinking about his mother. It made him sad, but also felt like progress. 

That was why he was so heartbroken when he heard Derek admit his plans to run away. Again. 

Stiles had been healing well. His cast had been removed and a walking brace replaced it. His ribs still hurt, but it was more of an annoyance than the original hurts so much he wanted to die type of pain. Melissa and Deaton thought the werewolves pulling pain was what was increasing his healing. His body wasn’t in pain, so it could focus on healing. Derek said, when asked by Scott as he tried to edge out the door, that it was common for humans in packs to heal more quickly, simply because they were pack.

Stiles knew he was pack again, but it was still nice to hear it. 

Either way, Stiles was officially off house arrest. He could technically drive, it was his left foot that was broken, not his right, but his dad has asked him not too. So, Scott ran over and drove them both to Lydia’s for an end of the summer pool party. Senior year started in a week, and Stiles was looking forward to it. It was going to be better this year. He was going to be better this year.

It was clear that Lydia had invited more than just the pack. The driveway was crammed full and even Stiles could hear the music thumping from inside as they pulled up.

It was a good time. Danny was there and surprised Stiles by greeting him with a thump on the back. He seemed upset that Stiles was on crutches, but he was assured that Stiles would be good to go before the lacrosse season started. Danny wandered away with a promise to hang out again soon. 

If fact, Stiles was surprised by how many people talked to him. Lots of kids from school came up and told him he looked way better now. A few mentioned how worried they had been about him. One girl, a sophomore who’s name Stiles didn’t know even slipped him her phone number before slapping his ass and walking away. 

Stiles didn’t drink. He was still on too much medication for it to be a good idea. Scott did. He and Kira had finally broken up and Lydia had smuggled him some wolfsbane laced beer so he could drink the pain away. Stiles had a feeling it wouldn’t take too long. He didn’t really love her-not like he had Allison. They would be alright after a few weeks.

The party settled down around midnight, as the hard core partiers headed out to other houses to continue to drink. That was when Stiles finally caught sight of Derek lurking in the corner, beer in hand and watching Stiles like he was the only person in the room. Stiles swaggered over, feeling a little drunk on the night and the euphoria of being young and alive. 

“Hey you,” Stiles said, throwing his arms around the wolf.

Derek relaxed into the hug, pulling them both down into the sofa, so Stiles could sit.

“Hey,” Derek responded, nuzzling Stiles’ hair in a way that made him think Derek may have gotten into the wolfsbane beer as well. “You smell like people.”

“Well duh. I danced. A lot. You weren’t here for me to hang all over.” Stiles draped his legs over Derek’s lap in a suggestive manner. 

“I should have been,” Derek’s pupils were huge, and Stiles needed them to get upstairs, like now. He leaned over and locked his lips on Derek’s, his tongue tracing over them until Derek finally opened his mouth. 

Stiles moaned as the kiss deepened. He moved to straddle Derek, a little awkwardly because of his brace, not caring who was watching. Derek hadn’t even kissed him like this since the incident and Stiles had wanted him to for days. 

Derek growled so softly it was barely audible over the music as Stiles thrust his hips ever so slightly. Stiles went from mostly hard to completely stiff in seconds. Stiles ground down a little harder, only to find Derek just as hard as he was. Stiles mind went blank except for how he needed Derek’s hands on him, like now. 

“Bedroom.” Stiles gasped, not having the brainpower for full sentences. Derek nodded and they stumbled up the stairs, Stiles’ bum leg slowing them down, as did the kisses that were definitely not appropriate outside a bedroom. 

Stiles wasn’t ashamed to say he had his hand down Derek’s pants as soon as they opened the door to the first room they saw. It had a bed, and that was good enough. Stiles had just drug that phenomenal noise of need out of Derek’s mouth as he popped open the button of Derek’s jeans, when the door swung open and Isaac stood there, blushing red and breathing hard. 

“Derek, I need to talk to you.” Isaac said, staring at the floor instead of the couple. 

“Make him leave. Isaac leave.” Stiles commanded, rubbing his hand against Derek just a little harder, but not being crude enough to pull him out, now that they had company. 

“Not now Isaac. Shut the door.” Derek rolled over to face him, blocking the beta’s view of Stiles in a rare display of possessiveness that Stiles was currently finding extremely hot.

“Now.” Isaac snapped, in a very un-Isaac like voice.

Derek growled at the beta but stayed on the bed. 

“Derek, Scott is outside, without his shirt on, literally swinging off the guttering. I’ve seen his eyes flash red at least twice and sooner of later, someone else will too.”

“Shit.” Derek was off the bed in a flash and downstairs before Stiles realized that he had been cockblocked by his best friend. Stiles took a moment to force himself to think of the most unsexy things he could to get himself under control, before he walked back downstairs. He was going to kill Scott.  
\------  
Luckily, the pack were almost the only ones left. They were able to convince the few others to leave, while Derek and Isaac tried to talk Scott down and Kira cried in the corner that it was her fault. Lydia pet her hair comfortingly. 

After they got him down, Stiles made some coffee, figuring all the wolves could use some sobering up. He made Scott drink a cup, followed by like a gallon of water while the pack curled up in the living room. He flipped on a movie as they all drifted off in a pile, Derek wrapped around Stiles like it was their last night on earth. 

The next morning, Stiles and Lydia cooked some eggs and bacon while the rest of the pack cleaned up the house. Poor Scott was on vomit duty, due to his behavior the night before. 

The bacon had finished up, so Stiles went to go let everyone know it was ready while Lydia finished the rest. He found Derek and Isaac first, cleaning up the living room. He couldn’t help but smile as Derek effortless lifted the couch so Isaac could sweep under it. 

He was about to step out and tease them for using their wolfy powers to cheat, when Derek spoke.

“Thanks for interrupting up last night. I hadn’t planned to let it get that far.”

“I know. No problem. Besides, I thought you might like to see Scott being an ass.” Isaac emptied his dustpan into the trash. “You guys were snuggled up pretty cute last night during the movie. I guess he took the news well?”

Stiles heart started to pound as he pressed himself against the hallway wall, out of sight. Apparently, the sound of Kira vacuuming in the next room was loud enough to cover his heartbeat, as the wolves kept talking, headless of Stiles eavesdropping. 

“I didn’t tell him.”

Issac's voice was indignant. “You didn’t tell him? Derek, you leave in three days. You have to tell him.”

Stiles was doing his best not to panic and failing, his breaths coming faster as his hands began to shake. Derek was leaving? His stomach dropped and he felt sick.

“Why do you think I got so drunk? I was trying to tell him. But, every time I look at him...” Derek’s voice trailed off. 

“Derek, you have to. Today.”

“Fine.”

Stiles could hear them walking towards the hall, so Stiles hobbled off as fast as he could, tears stinging his eyes despite himself. 

He bypassed the kitchen and went to the patio, where Scott had finally finished hosing off the puke. 

“Is breakfast ready?” Scott asked, before turning to look at his friend’s white face. “Dude, are you alright?”

Stiles didn’t feel alright. “I don’t feel good.” He felt numb and he swayed on his feet. “Take me home?”

“Yeah, come on.” Scott swung his arm around Stiles’ shoulder as they walked to the jeep, Scott worried face swimming in and out of focus.

\------  
Stiles managed to keep himself together until he got home, despite Scott shooting him worried looks every mile. It wasn’t until he crawled into his bed that he let it all out.  


He burst into tears. Ugly sobs clawed their way out of his throat. He didn’t understand. How could Derek leave the pack? Leave him?

Yeah, things had been a little rough lately, but they were recovering. Things were getting better. Look at last night. It had been hot and sexy. They had both wanted it. Derek had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world. 

He must have drifted off because he jerked awake when the front door slammed. It was late, nearly dark outside and his dad must have just gotten of shift, making a general racket as he moved around downstairs. 

Stiles’ face was swollen, and his head hurt, but he didn’t get out of bed. After a bit, he heard his dad coming upstairs. He turned to face the wall and pretended to be asleep when his dad opened the door to check on him, like John had done every night lately. It must have fooled him, because his dad didn’t bug him. 

His phone chimed as the sun set. He glanced at it, surprised to see he had several text messages and missed calls. Huh. He hadn’t heard it go off all day. 

10:12am- Lydia-Where did you go? Are you seriously leaving me to clean this kitchen up by myself? Not cool Stilinski. 

10:14am-Kira-You looked awful when you left. Are you feeling okay?

10:15am-Derek-Lydia said you left. I thought we were hanging out today?

11:15am-Derek-Kira said you were sick. ☹ I didn’t think you had anything to drink last night.

11:35am-Derek-Are you okay? Should I come by?

2:02pm-Scott-Derek had called a few times. I said you needed some space. That ok?

3:45pm-Derek-Scott said you needed space, but I swung by your house. I didn’t go in. I just needed to hear your heart. Please answer me.

4:27pm-Lydia-Derek won’t leave me alone. Just call him. Or at least text me back. 

5:05pm-Derek-Stiles, your scaring me. Call me back.

6:22pm-Scott-I’m giving you until 7 to call me back then I’m going to come over and go all alpha on your ass. The pack is getting worried.

The missed calls were all from Derek, except one from Scott. 

Stiles sighed and shot Scott a text saying he had taken a nap and was feeling better-that it must have been bug. 

Stiles flipped on a movie to fill the silence. Because the longer he sat looking at his phone, the angrier he got. He had opened up to Derek in a way he never had with anyone else. Derek had seen him at his worst and Stiles thought he accepted it. And now Derek was going to leave. If he wasn’t happy, if Stiles wasn’t good enough, he should have said something. Preferable before Stiles fell in love.

Asshole. 

It wasn’t like Derek was perfect. He was broody and had no communication skills at all and was always frowning, even when they were out trying to have fun. 

And Stiles was awesome. He had pulled himself out of a depression that would have killed most people. He had survived everything the summer had thrown at him. He solved the mystery of Lauren. He, the stupid weak human, saved Derek’s life with his baseball bat of all things. 

He deserved better than this. He deserved an explanation. 

He stormed out of the house so fast his dad couldn’t even yell at him for taking the jeep. He drove downtown to the loft in a rage. 

He stomped up the stairs, grateful he had grabbed his crushes. His leg felt better, but it wasn’t good enough to climb a million flights of stairs. Not without crying and he was not about to show up at Derek’s in tears. 

He hammered on the door, long and hard. “Derek. Answer me now! I know you’re in here. Derek!”

The door opened. Derek, hair sopping wet, he must have been in the shower, looked horrified that he was there. 

His expression settled it for Stiles. So this was it. They were breaking up. They had never even got past second base and they were breaking up.

Derek’s eyes flickered down to Stiles’ broken leg. 

“You walked up here? You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” It was amazing how Derek could make concern sound condescending. Stiles bristled as Derek made a move to pick him up and carry him to the couch. 

“I don’t want to sit down. I want to know why your leaving again Derek.”

Derek looked shocked. “I didn’t think you had figured it out.”

“Yeah well.” Stiles wasn’t going to thrown Isaac under the bus. “I did. I just don’t get it. If you didn’t like the relationship, why didn’t you say something? All you had to say was that we were moving too fast or too slow, or that you just didn’t like me like that anymore. You don’t have to run away. We could just be friends. The pack needs you. I need you.”

Stiles continued, gaining tempo and volume as he went. “You’re going to walk out again? Because you’re scared or some shit? News flash, I was scared too. I was scared Lauren was going to kill you, then I was scared I was going to die alone. Now, I’m scared of losing you. Because you’re walking out on me. And I don’t want to break up now that I finally have you. I don’t. But I will, because you clearly don’t love me like I love you.”

Stiles had more to say. About how awesome he was and how he would be fine without him. But Derek grabbed his shoulders looking bewildered by the outburst. 

“Stiles I’m not breaking up with you.”

Stiles was confused. “But you’re leaving.”

“It’s only a few months of training.”

“Training? I don’t” Stiles was more confused. “You’re aren’t running away?”

“I would never leave you.” Derek’s eyes were intense as they meet Stiles’. “You love me?”

Stiles’ knees went weak. “I think I want to sit down now.”

Derek helped him hobble over to the couch, hands even more gentle than usual. Stiles mind was whirling, and he couldn’t understand what Derek was trying to tell him.  


“I don’t understand.” Stiles whined, after Derek finished helping him prop his aching leg up. “What training?”

Derek looked mildly uncomfortable, not taking the outstretched hand that was offered to him. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to get in. I almost didn’t. Your dad had to give me a hell of a recommendation before they would let me apply on such short notice. Then there was all the physicals and paperwork. I had to get shots. It was awful.”

“What are you talking about? Get in where?”

“The police academy.”

“Shut up.” Stiles swatted Derek’s arm, all his fears melting away into delight as the pieces fell into place. “You’re going to be a cop.”

Derek smiled his shy smile “Yep. Your dad even promised me a job, assuming I pass my training.”

“Dude, of course you’re going to pass. You’re a werewolf. You’re going to be like top of all your classes. All the departments are going to want you. This is great! I’m so happy for you, you can be backup for my dad and keep his safe and”

Stiles trailed off as a terrible thought occurred to him.

“Are you doing this for me? Because you think I want you to? Do you even want to be an officer?”

Derek’s expression was earnest as he faced Stiles. “Of course. I mean, your dad mentioned that you used to want to be cop but probably wouldn’t now, but, like you said, I’m a wolf. I have tons of advantages.”

“I wouldn’t want to now?”

“Because of the PTSD.”

“Oh.” Stiles crossed his arms and leaned back, barely controlling his temper. "I have to let my disease dictate what I can and can’t do with the rest of my life. A disease that I may or may not even have.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant that since you can’t right now, I should.”

“So, you’re taking my place.”

“No!” Derek was getting frustrated; his eyebrows were going higher and higher and a growl slipped out. “I’m doing it because I don’t want you to ever get hurt again. I’m doing it because you are always going to do whatever it takes to protect the one’s you love, and I’ll be damned if I let it get as close as it did again. I’ll take the bullets so you can keep fighting. I’ll make the hard choices and bury the supernatural evidence to keep the town safe. Because I fucking love you, you’re my mate, and that’s what you want. Because you think it’s the best job a person can do, and I happen to agree with you.”

Derek kissed him hard and Stiles didn’t hesitate before kissing him back, hands running over each other. Stiles lifted his neck back in a gesture of pure trust and Derek ran his tongue over it, making Stiles shutter down to his bones. He pulled the wolf in tighter. 

“You love me?” Stiles panted, when they finally broke apart.

“You love me too.” Derek looked smug; his hair wild where Stiles had been tugging on it. 

“Want to go upstairs?”

Derek looked uncomfortable again.

“Or not.” Maybe he had misread the situation. 

“I don’t want to bone you then leave. I want our first time to be special.” Derek blushed and Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the romance of the sentiment. 

“That’s fine. I want it to be too. I don’t mind waiting” Now if he could just get his dick to believe his brain. “Let’s put on a movie and snuggle or something. Spend some time together before you have to leave.”

They curled up, watching the first thing they found on the TV. Stiles didn’t really care what was on. Derek loved him. He was wrapped up safe in Derek’s strong arm and right now, that was enough.

It was only a few months. Cadets were allowed to have cell phones and Stiles loved to text. Besides, he would be busy with senior year and the months would fly by. He was determined to make this year the best one yet. With his pack beside him, they would be unstoppable.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter! It's short and sweet but I love it. I hope you enjoyed reading this whole story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Stiles was bouncing on the edge of his chair. He could tell it was driving Scott crazy and he didn’t care. 

“Stop it.” Scott said finally, as the opening music began. “It’s not like you haven’t seen him. You Skype all the time.”

Stiles waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “We both know Skype isn’t the same. Isn’t that what you tell me when Amanda has to go back to college during the week?”

Scott blushed but before he could say anything else in defense of his new girlfriend, John interrupted, glaring at both of them with his patented angry dad stare.

“Boys. I do not want to hear about Scott’s sex life. Or anyone else’s.” John fixed a scowl on Stiles before facing the stage once more. 

Stiles grinned, enjoying his dad’s discomfort a little more than necessary. Mostly because he didn’t technically have a sex life. Derek had been away for almost five months now and hadn’t come home once. He was too busy with training. 

Most of their phone calls and video chats had been about how school was going for both. Derek had to be careful not let his supernatural gifts be noticed and it was hard. He wanted to do his best, but really couldn’t without giving everything away.

Stiles was just trying to get through senior year with as little drama as possible. Not an easy task since he was in a werewolf pack. They had already had three kelpies in the lake and a centaur in the woods. A centaur. Who even knew those were real.

Stiles refocused on the stage as the cadets began to file across the stage, scanning the crowd for a certain rugged face. His heart must have been going crazy, because Scott nudged him with his elbow, a question in his look. Stiles smiled back. He was so happy he could burst. 

It was easy to spot Derek. He looked hot as hell in his uniform. If it was possible, he seemed even more in shape. Visions of being handcuffed to the bed while the uniform was stripped off floated to Stiles brain, until Scott nudged him back to the present again. The past five mouths of celibacy had really worn on Stiles self-control. 

The ceremony was powerful and moving. The major talked about dedication and love of community. The training officers talked of the future of the nation. It was all very moving, but Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off his boyfriend. 

He looked good and not just physically. He looked more confident than ever. He held himself with pride. Derek had been right. This was exactly what he needed.

Stiles knew he had changed too. He had put the weight he had lost back on, along with a few pounds of muscle. He had finally grown into his limbs and it resulted in less falling and flailing. Most importantly, the lost, haunted look in his eye was gone. Sure, he sometimes was hit with a wave of grief so strong he could barely stand. Sometimes he would catch a shadow and be sure it was a ghost coming back for him. But, a nudge from Isaac, a hug from Lydia, or an arm across the shoulder from Scott was all it took to bring he back and he was good again.

He was almost completely happy again. Once Derek was back, he would be. 

The cadets stood and saluted then a cheer went through the ranks. It was over and they were officially police officers. Stiles jumped off his chair and pushed through the crowds. 

“Derek!” he shouted, smiling so broadly it hurt, looking for the one person he was dying to see. 

Derek had been working his way toward Stiles was well. He held his arms out and Stiles leaped into them. Derek stuck in nose in the crook of his neck and sniffed, running his arms up and down his back. Stiles knew he was being scented and didn’t care. He wrapped his arms tighter around Derek’s neck. He had him back. He had Derek back. 

“I’m proud of you son.” John had wormed his way through the crowd much more politely than Stiles but had found them easily. He clapped Derek on the shoulder, looking pleased as could be. 

“Yeah dude.” Scott had made it as well. “First in your class, that’s awesome.”

“Thank you, sir.” Derek responded automatically to John and nodded at Scott, before finally releasing Stiles but not stepping away. 

“John is fine when you’re not on duty." His dad grinned. "Your application to work at the Beacon Hills Police Department has officially been approved. Though, we never had a proper talk about this.”

He gestured to where Stiles was plastered against Derek’s side. The wolf took half a step away but was still closer than humans were normally comfortable with. 

“Sorry, sir. I mean, John.” 

Oh, this was going to be fun. Stiles stuck his tongue out at his dad then planned a kiss on Derek’s lips. He would not be restrained by social restrictions, though he did manage not to use tongue. John laughed, the happiness of the day overpowering any fatherly instincts. “Come on. Let’s go get some food before these two get to third base.”

Derek blushed a deeper red. Thanks to Lydia inability to keep a secret, Stiles knew for fact that Derek had a trip planned for the two of them over Christmas break. The hotel room was quite beautiful, and Stiles was glad their first time would be special. 

He was looking forward to it. He was looking forward to Derek being home and the pack finally being together. In fact, he was looking forward to his whole life. 

He laced his fingers in with Derek’s. 

“Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have been reading as I've been posting, please know that I have updated the summary and the tags, but the story has not changed and it will not, though I will eventually go back and edit the typo's I have found since posting. Thanks again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticize is always welcome, but nothing hateful please. Leave me comment and let me know what you think!


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